Unbent, Unbroken, Unconquered
by Second Captain
Summary: Heroes win favor. Bastards win wars. Mass Effect AU set in the Renegade Reinterpretations Universe. M/Shep Earthborn and Ruthless
1. Intro

Unbent Unbroken Unconquered

Heroes win favor. Bastards win wars. Mass Effect AU set in the Renegade Reinterpretations Universe.

M/Shep

First and foremost, Mass Effect and its Characters are property of Bioware and this piece is purely for entertainment purposes only. The AU _Renegade Reinterpretations_ is the brain child of College Fool. Hopefully I can do justice to both with this undertaking. This story will follow the format and that the latter has lain out in the pseudo historical narrative he devised, but for reasons of F%*& YEAH HUMANITY (!) and in the name of all things awesome, I will be taking certain liberties with details: my own interpretation if you will. Feedback and constructive criticism will be appreciated.

For those who wish to understand the back story of this alternate universe in detail, I would recommend reading Renegade Reinterpretations up to CH. 44 for **complete** context. However, those who feel that they don't have the time for it fear not; I will gradually drop hints of what life in this AU is like through the progression of the tale (to give an idea of the attitude that humans have in the present). Those who want to read the entire Renegade Reinterpretation story by College Fool then by all means go ahead. I can't really stop you can I?

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is an AU where Paragons are _non-existent_, not out of choice mind you, but out of necessity due to the length and severity of the First Contact War and its repercussions in this universe. The most notable of which is replacing the Paragon/Renegade dynamic with the Xenonationalist and Assimilationist perspectives. Xenonationalist's are renegades who play within the rules versus their Assimilationist counterparts who do not. In a nutshell, the former is against coercion, willing to compromise and work with aliens to better guarantee the survival of the species…despite being a self centered prick that's outright disgusted at the prospect of mingling with non-humans (cough*racist* cough). The Assimilationist desires to integrate with aliens in society and build a much better tomorrow working shoulder to shoulder with them…so long as its humanity who's in charge and to hell with the objections anyone makes otherwise.

Bioware gave the choice of "blue and red". In this universe your choices are Auburn and Burgundy. Honorable Fascist or Idealistic Imperialist. You can read about them in detail with their Renegade Reinterpretations entry's by College Fool but they do contain minor SPOILERS if you have never played the mass effect franchise and contain bigger SPOILERS if you desire to read this fic.


	2. Prolouge

Prologue

Earth

United North American Zone

Chicago Ruins

Sector 4A Section 33

April 9 2169

129 years After Contact

"Easiest job in the world Lil'Red, don't you fret none", said Switch, for what felt like the fifteenth attempt to make small talk to his little shadow. The two of them were walking amidst the bones of civilization, wading through polluted water that lapped at their knees. Other members of the militia kept armed guard over alien detainees at work: hauling debris, sorting the reusable from the trash or using sledgehammers to break down material. Dozers and other heavy equipment farted and belched as they cleared the worst of it, their operators being directed by off planet contractors through their headsets.

As Switch reached to his cigarette pack he glanced at the sky. It was what it always has been since Yellowstone was detonated: dark grey and gloomy. The derelict skyscrapers were like half dead giants amidst the clouds: staring agape with broken windows and slouching with gutted exteriors, allowing the elements to degrade them from within.

Twisted boulders of concrete would rain after the collapse of such a monster, bringing with it a whole new list of problems on top of the old. Rusted pipes and metal would be hell to find amidst the brown water, crippling a man if he didn't watch where he stepped. Months of labor would be put in to clearing out the inevitable mess before construction could even be discussed. Every delay made relocating the refugees from the war slums take that much longer.

_Ain't nothing nowhere un-fucked_ he thought.

He stopped to regard the dregs of the universe that wound up here, in the half drowned city. The blue fatigues were cut to their respective sizes, but every one out of a dozen or so was either too small or comically large. A lot of the aliens were coughing and shivering as they worked. Pneumonia probably had its grips on them, a lot more would die when winter arrived full swing but Switch didn't care. If they didn't piss off the Alliance then they wouldn't be sent to Earth for clean up.

The Brass was supposed to care for its prisoners, working off their sentences with labor and they did. Most of the time. The ex-slavers, pirates, insurgents or other would be terrorists weren't the kind that the galaxy cared to pay attention to in the long run.

Not that they lasted that long anyway.

He lit his cigarette and took a puff; glancing at his little charge from the corner of his eye. The kid was young, colored like mocha and stared impassively with wide green eyes. Lil'Red trailed to the right of Switch whom clutched his weapon with a casual hand. The kid couldn't handle the recoil lugging a Mattock like Switch's own, but he was strong enough to carry a Scimitar. Rather than take the shotgun though, he opted for the Tempest. The SMG was light enough, and able to spread a lot of lead in a hurry.

He wore a smaller version of the militia outfit that his counterpart had: a red vest reinforced with metals in its weave and painted with a crude 10 over the heart. Complimented with combat webbing and thick insulated boots the vest was also made to absorb and retain heat, something that made winter work bearable if not easier.

Switch scratched at the brown stubble on his neck. "The trick" he spoke around the cigarette in his mouth "is to keep your distance at all times with these guys. They're collard I know, usually a quick hit with a couple dozen volts to the neck is enough to give 'em an idea. But every now and again some asshole will start some shit. The last thing you need is one of 'em making a gun grab."

He turned to look at him and the kid merely stared back at him. Switch sighed. His patrol shift was over and he should be on break for the day. "Big Red" told him to take the kid out for a walk and show him the ropes. At 15 guard duty looked like a step up from errand boy in the barracks. Big Red ordered it with a smile as the cybernetic eye buzzed in his head; saying it'd be "An early birthday present from the 10th Street Militia" Switch smiled back at that and nodded. He was sure he'd wind up with latrine duty at best and broken teeth at worst if he said anything otherwise. Only an idiot would argue with Marlo.

A roar interrupted that thought followed by shouts of alarm. Switch turned his head to the sound and saw a hunchbacked humanoid three dozen meters to his right. It made little tidal waves with its movements as it smashed a concrete slab with a roar. Three weary militia stood nearby at a suitable distance, eyeing the alien at work.

"You ever see an alien this close before?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of the creature, which used its sledgehammer at a furious pace. The kid shook his head 'no' in response.

Switch chuckled and puffed out some smoke. "Come on then" he gestured with his hand, his boots sloshing through the water. "Let's meet the rest of the universe."

They slogged through the water. Switch made the kid halt when they were close enough to make out the odd forms of the detainees. Switch pointed with a finger and narrated for his counterpart. "You see that big one? Dragging that rusted Civic?" The boy nodded, it was one of the hunchbacks and they seemed larger the closer they were; every time it grunted from the strain of its labor it sounded like a growl.

"That's a Krogan. They're tough SOB's. I seen one of them break a man in two before. You always make sure you keep an eye peeled on them. If you got to handle one always go in a group. Always." he stressed.

He pointed again to another alien further on his left. This one reminded him of a frog with bulbous eyes, even with the horns on its head. It was slender and tall, quick too; judging by the way it and another of its kind were sorting glass, metal and rock into different crates. "That's a Salarian, Marlo says their suspicious fucks but not too bad once you get to know them."

The boy nodded like it was a fact. Despite his age, "Big Red" Marlo was built like a prizefighter and had the scars to prove it. Scuttlebutt says he was either a Commando or a Corsair way back during the First Contact War. Switch didn't know whether to believe it or not, but the cybernetic arm and metal in his face certainly vouched for him.

"Whats that one?"

Switch turned to face the kid, who kept his gaze on the detainees and cradled his gun in his right hand at the ready. The first time that Lil' Red spoke to him all day and he looked to where he kept his gaze. It was an alien that dropped his crate of recyclables with a splash. It paused to hack violently into his hand as a shaking fit took hold of him. Another of the militia, upon seeing this activated his omni-tool. The holographic projection glowed a dull yellow over his hand and forearm as the detainee's collar hummed to life. It let out a startled grunt of pain and shook as electricity coursed through his body. The human laughed as the alien bent back down quickly to grab its crate. Water splashed onto his clothing in his haste, sticking the jumpsuit to his body. His "skin" wasn't skin at all, but a brown metallic carapace that contrasted starkly with the white tattoo on his face. It had no hair but a crest of horns smoothed over his scalp that shot out almost a foot past the back of his head.

As it hurried over to one of the idle trucks Switch answered, "One of the birds, a Turian. We went to war with them before."

"We did?" said the kid.

"Yeah we did".

"Did we beat them?" Switch took a long puff on his cigarette, his eyes sliding over the workers. A Krogan looked like it was arguing harshly with a Salarian, prompting four militia too break them apart before it got ugly. A dozer was plowing through a mountain of derbris and pushing it into massive piles on their far left. The kid poked him in the side; he turned to look at him again. "Did we beat them?"

Swtich responded with a shake of his head. "No. It was more of a draw…look if you want details ask Marlo…"

"Any Batarians 'ere?"

Switch did turn this time to look him in the eye. Lil'Red was silent a moment before speaking again, "I heard stories about 'em", he said, "that dey steal kids out past curfew; that dey work'em till they can't no more and then eat them. And that dey all look like fugly bats because they come from the asshole of hell."

Switch smiled. "I heard that when I was half your age." The kid continued to eye him and the smile slipped. He dragged on his cigarette and blew out the smoke," How much you know about Batarians?"

"I know they fucked us when we didn't do nothing to them. I know they hated us when we fought back and that we hate them for breakin' ery'thing."

Switch took out the cigarette and began walking towards a dozer. "That's about the size of it. They did this," he gestured with his arm at the ruined world around them "when we fought back. We found their planet and fucked it too."

The boy nodded, "Good, they get what was comin' to 'em."

"Watch your step, all kinds of shit hidden in this shit water. And yea, them fucks are still paying out the ass for fucking with us Lil' Red", he said as he continued to walk. "We got more than a handful here in our section. You'll see one before the days out no doubt about it."

They made their way around one of the machines; the grinding strain of metal lifting tons of debris was deafening, the miniature waves reached up to smack Switch's lower thighs and up to Lil'Red's waist. Brown water splashed onto soaked jumpsuits as aliens worked over man- made mounds of rubble. One of them was slamming hard with a sledgehammer breaking the heavier pieces into cartable ones. The duo was more than a handful of meters past the snorting equipment before they heard a non human voice scream.

Startled, Lil'Red turned around and asked, "Fuck was that?"

Switch scowled. "Could be an accident. Could be faking injury to head to medical. You can never tell." He started to move towards the noise back towards and around the dozer. When he did the kid was slogging through the water right behind him. Switch turned and ordered "Wait here, if shit goes down remember practice or get back up."

The kid obeyed but looked disappointed. "Practice" was shooting empty beer bottles in the evenings but all in all the kid was a pretty good shot. Switch didn't ask if he learned prior from living in the slums. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

Switch made his way over to the moans of pain. It was coming from one of the big piles the dozers piled on. Some of the drivers turned off their machines to regard at the situation like the nearby detainee's; many of which were gathering around an alien curled into a fetal position. It let out a howl every now and again and held its right leg tight against its body as it rocked back and forth in the water.

Two militia quickly slogged their way to the alien ahead of Switch; some distance away was a third whom was sunk to her knees. From the way she was cursing and twisting her leg, her foot had gotten stuck in the waters debris. Of the closest pair, one of them barked something at the alien but it refused to answer the man: only letting out a groan of suffering. Irritated the militia kicked at the alien's leg and it screamed louder. Looking exacerbated the militia touched the micro-bead in his ear to call a med-team for transport.

That is, until the alien rolled quickly into a kneeling position and punched into the groin of the talking human. The blow made the man drop his rifle and let out a scream as the alien jammed his fist harder into the man's pelvis; pushing upwards to throw him into the other standing by. The impact pinned the second militia's rifle to his body as both landed with a splash.

A rigid chunk of metal was visible, with a blue cloth wrapped around the half that wasn't lodged in the man's reddening crotch.

_A shiv_ thought Switch. _Asshole made a shiv_

Switch saw this play out in the time it took for him to see the alien grab the first guard's rifle and start firing. The bullets made little fountains of water with every impact, as human bodies jerked under gunfire and bloodied the water. The detainees panicked at the shots and scrambled away only to be gunned down by the screaming alien. One of them attempted a heroic gesture and made a pass at the berserker's rifle; a decision that ended with a half a dozen or so rounds tearing up his intestines.

Bullets stitched into alien backs as they ran from the berserker or from their front, as they inadvertently provided shielding from the returning fire from the other militia. The alien turned its gun on the still stuck woman and fired. Her head popped into red mist through the bark of the weapon, as one of the rounds pierced a nostril and out the back of her head.

Switch aimed his rifle and attempted to bring the alien down, but his shot was intercepted by a panicking detainee running towards the dozer for cover. It jerked backward from the hole in his chest and landed with a squeal of pain. _That_ had the misfortune of getting the crazed alien's attention.

The Mattock was every inch a militia rifle: it packed a harsher punch then an automatic one but its firing rate was single shot only. Meaning that it could fire only as fast as the triggerman behind it. Meaning that the M8 Avenger assault rifle that the alien was using dwarfed it in sheer led volume.

Switch started to move backwards, firing as he went before turning to sprint to the other side of the dozer. The alien let out a roar along with an increase in the cracks of gunfire. Little sparks ricocheted off of the metal from the assault rifle as Switch ran past a driver jumping out of his vehicle. The fat man was a step behind and grunted as a burst tore into his lower back.

Switch stumbled as he set his foot down wrong on a pipe and fell face first. Spitting filth out ohis mouth he scrambled to get up. He got his protection behind the wheel of the vehicle as a bullet took out a chunk of reinforced tire near his head. He saw Lil'Red making his way towards him in the distance and yelled "Backup!"

He knew the kid probably radioed in already for reinforcements. What Switch meant for was him to get away. The kid hesitated before turning and running as the gunfire returned with a vengeance. Switch aimed his weapon blindly and fired it around the wheel. The alien maintained its spray before a "click" cut the clatter short. Quickening splashes made it obvious that the detainee was trying to close the distance.

Switch took that as his cue to aim around the wheel and fire but an object crunched into his nose and brought his shot up high. The thing landed with a splash and a hiss as it landed into the water. The overheated assault rifle made wisps of steam rise as the water swallowed it.

It was then that a blur barreled into him. As they landed into the water, Switch's vision turned from murkish brown to light as he forced his head back up to punch the thing in the face. He reached for a rifle butte sticking up in the water before being hammered in the face again. The detainee crawled its way on top of him, straddling his waist and forcing his head back underwater. Switch felt his air supply rapidly going away with his consciousness as the thing dug its thumbs into his windpipe.

It was a testament to the alien's desire to see him dead when it didn't bother to move its head as Switch clawed at his face. He felt for its eyes and jabbed his thumbs into its sockets.

The detainees grip remained firm.

Just when he felt himself about to slip into the quiet black, the alien's weight on his body pulled a Houdini. Its grip vanished from his throat along with that weight. Switch breached the surface of the filthy water and gagged air back into his lungs. He clutched at his throat and blinked rapidly to see past a dissipating haze of purple light.

He felt for his Mattock and dragged the dripping weapon back to him. Coughing, he aimed at the first blue thing in his vision. He fired once, twice, three times…Switch was on the sixth shot when he paused to actually look at it. The detainee was propped up against the side of the dozer in a sitting position. Half of its body was under brown water and bleeding from the holes in its chest but it was its skull that got his attention. Bits of bone and brain tissue dripped down from the bright red stain from where its head had impacted against the metal.

A second form was whimpering and moaning in the water nearby. Unlike the blue uniform, its vest and red tinted armor were visible amongst combat webbing…

Switch crawled to the body and when he turned it over he saw green eyes squinting at him.

"Red?" he managed to choke out.

"I think I broke something," he responded.

That purple light…

"Too far with a gun…" he groaned out, his face a mask of pain. "Saw you go down…had to improvise…never tried moving anything but six pack's before but… I didn't know I could fucking _fly_."

Switch could barely choke out a word, his throat hurt too much to respond right now. Instead he helped him up and propped him against the dozers wheel. Lil' Red looked over his shoulder and gestured with his chin, "back-up" he said. Switch's neck hurt if he twisted it enough but he turned anyway to see a dozen militia converging on their posistion. A medical truck was plowing behind them at some distance. As he fumbled for the medigel in his belt, Lil' Red turned to look at the alien nearby.

The corpse was about the size of an adult human and the tinge of its reddish brown skin contrasted starkly with its blue outfit. Its needle like teeth was a filthy yellow in its open mouth. Blood oozed from the pair of eyes that Switch dug out, while the pair above _that_ stared a dead man's stare as blood ran down its eight nostrils.

"Did I do that?" Lil' Red gestured with his chin towards the large stain on the dozer still dripping brain matter.

Switch nodded.

One of the militia arrived and was laughing like a loon as he kicked water everywhere. "Did you see that? Did you see that? Like a cannonball! Fucking Biotics man I'll tell you."

"Shut up Grady," barked another.

A woman of the militia, an older one with graying hair knelt down next to them. "You alright? Calvin? What happened?"

Switch-Calvin-coughed a reply, his throat hurt. "Alien…went crazy. Red got him."

Lil'Red continued to stare at the corpse and Switch tried to laugh but all that came out was a painful chuckle. "Looks like…you met…your first…Batarian," he wheezed out.

"Anybody dead?" she asked.

Switch nodded.

"What about him?"

"Fine…Ma."

The woman scowled at Switch for using her nickname and looked at the kid.

"Shepard? Are you alright?"

The boy didn't turn to look at her; he kept staring at the Batarian for what felt like an eternity before he responded with a thick stream of vomit.

Grady let out a strangled snort of amusement.


	3. Decisions Decisions

Decisions Decisions…

Location: Classified

Time: XXX/XXX/XXXX

"No? What do you mean no?"

"_No_, as in I cannot endorse Sgt. Riley Weaver as our candidate Udina."

There were two of them sitting in a room. The desk between them had a few amenities of an office but the holographic projector was what set it apart. The device was built into the center of the table; the light projecting from it formed the face of a brown haired man with blue eyes. A full projection of his physical self in armor was rotating slowly next to the apparition of his head. The information scrolling underneath both claimed he was 29, but he had a haggard appearance. His eyes looked both hot an empty as he stared and stared….

"Weaver is an N6 operative", continued Udina in a grave tone; the incessant tapping of his finger on metal betrayed his impatience. "He was resourceful enough to blow up a pirate base using nothing but a faulty engine and some omnigel. Volunteered for two tours in the Terminus systems while doing another three on occupation duty…"

"I have his record on file Udina," interrupted the voice again. "His ingenuity is remarkable and his service exemplary. Weaver's the lovechild of Team Zeta but what I am concerned with is the man's mental state. Did you know he refused psychiatric evaluation twice?"

Udina craned his neck to the side to look at the monitor to his left. The human ambassador had a look of perpetual irritation and he aimed it the flickering form of Admiral Steven Hackett. The officer stared back evenly with blue eyes framed on a serious face. The white goatee and the scar that extended from the right corner of his mouth and up his cheek gave every impression of a rough customer.

"Have you seen the security footage? Someone with that much drive is unstoppable," said Udina.

"Weaver is a tough bastard" acknowledged Hackett with a nod of his head, "But watching his entire unit get betrayed and cut down by their own security escort, and then having a thresher maw thrown in for good measure…

Hackett shook his head; the rim of the blue cap he wore teased itself in the flickering monitor before disappearing again. "The man could be sporting serious emotional scars."

"Every soldier has scars Admiral, Weaver is a survivor. If he could make it out of the most dangerous zone on Khar'shan under such circumstances then I say he deserves the position."

"That's just it Udina, he lived through the Mindoir Revolt when he was a boy. Throw the Akuze ambush on top of that and it'd tearing open all the old wounds and pouring acid in for good measure. Every man has his limit, and I think giving the responsibilities of a Spectre would be more then he might be able to bear."

Udina turned to the man across from him "Anderson?"

A dark haired and dark skinned man sat opposite of Udina. He interlocked his fingers, and leaned forward, eyeing the hologram. "I trained him right after he got out of Basic" he spoke in a deep baritone. "I talked with him after his debriefing and the memorial for the unit. Weaver won't admit it, but he's hurting."

His eyes shifted to regard Udina, who scratched at his graying hair. "I'm with the Admiral on this one, if he doesn't want to be honorably discharged then fine. But if he wants to keep serving in an active capacity than he needs to have mandatory psychiatric evaluation first."

"Very well then" said Udina. Hackett merely nodded in turn. Udina moved his hand and clicked a button on the desk. The projection changed: in its place was the lithe form of a woman in full combat armor. She had her black hair tied in a bun and sported an infectious grin. The magnified view of her hovering head showed almond shaped eyes, inky black and radiating mirth.

Udina actually smiled at the woman's enthusiasm and Hackett, perhaps in a rare moment, managed a smirk in return. "Lieutenant Jasmine Xiong," spoke the Admiral.

"The Hero of the Skyllian Blitz" said Anderson.

"She held the line when the defenses were breached," said Udina. "Almost single handedly fought off an army of mercenaries for six hours."

"She used Batarian police and just as many ex-slaves to reinforce her too," said Anderson, a note of displeasure obvious in his voice.

Udina, either not noticing it or merely choosing to ignore it, continued. "Military child, spent most of her life on ships, her mother is serving as XO of the dreadnaught Killiminjaro and her father is serving as a Major stationed at Arcturus as well. She does appear capable enough" said Udina.

"We can't fault her courage…" began Hackett.

"…But you can her temper" finished Anderson.

Hackett turned to face the captain. Anderson explained, "Jasmine has the skills, but she's still too young for the job."

"Are you certain Anderson?" said Udina. "I'm not faulting your training of the girl but she did win the Star of Terra."

"If she could rally loyal Batarians and troops to fight under her, and keep them together against those odds then she obviously has leadership potential," said Hackett.

"That's just it though," said Anderson. "Jasmine has the spark, she's tenacious and unyielding but she's as eager as she is quick to anger. She'll let her temper get the best of her at times. Give her a few years to mellow out, then she'll be ready."

"Well if not her than what about this other one? Shepard?" said Udina.

Anderson reached forward with a hand and tapped the button on the desk. The image shifted again, to the shaven headed visage of a dark skinned man with green eyes. The long scar that mimicked the Admiral's own, stretched from below the left corner of his mouth all the way across that same sided cheek and to his earlobe.

"Commander Isaac Shepard," said Anderson.

Udina leaned back in his chair and frowned. "Records say he grew up on Earth" he read the scrolling information, "but no record of any family."

"Doesn't have one", said Anderson "he grew up in the slums with the other refugees, learned to look after himself; joined up with one of the militia's overseeing reconstruction and cleanup groundside when he got older."

Udina continued to dart over the commanders file and read some of the highlights aloud. "A biotic, special forces, served with distinction in the Traverse and in the Terminus systems. Slotted for the ICT after managing to salvage the Torfan Offensive."

Anderson nodded. "He opened the door for us to strike at the biggest cut of Free Hegemony space."

Hackett's eyes narrowed at the image. "If I remember correctly, his own unit suffered over 75% casualties cleaning the Higs out from the fortress and the underground complexes."

"They were lucky to make planet fall at all, most of the battalion got wiped out by the MAC cannon either in orbit or during the drop," answered Anderson.

"I'll admit, the man was able to turn shit into sunshine, but after he cleared the base and took their command center…" Udina paused and then shook his head.

Anderson gave Udina a look and the ambassador scowled in turn. "I'm not going to lose any sleep over it as much as the next human, but it'll rub all the wrong elbows when we inform the Council that our first candidate is the Butcher."

"Shepard keeps a cool head," Anderson insisted, "even when things are at their worst. More importantly then that: at the end of the day he delivers results."

"Is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?" asked Udina.

"Look at the First Contact War. Look at us now. That's the only kind of person who can defend the galaxy."

Hackett looked at Anderson for a moment, thinking…remembering…at last he nodded his head in assent, "Agreed."

Udina thumbed the button on the table, the projection shut off. He rose from his chair and replied "I'll make the call."

Author notes: Free Hegemony? Mindoir Revolt? Khar'shan occupation? Batarians fighting with a _human_? What? No! I haven't been drinking! Sit down for a moment and let me give you a history lesson. It all began long ago, when one dumbshit got angry and said "Screw this planet with your lights and oceans and breathable atmosphere! I'm going to that red planet over yonder…"


	4. First Impressions

First Impressions

In the early 21st century mankind found life or at least its remnants on Mars. Emboldened by the discovery of alien ruins, the human race catapulted themselves into the heavens above. Using the artifacts of that extinct race, the "mass relays", as they were called, allowed humanity to explore the stars and colonize worlds beyond their home system. It was expected that one day, humanity _would_ encounter alien life once again, and in the year 2040 they did. Whatever preconceptions they had, it was nothing compared to the waking nightmare that the young species would go through at the hands of the Batarian Hegemony.

The race of four eyed humanoids from the world of Khar'shan had discovered the relay connected to Human space almost by accident. After locking down the system and moving Relay 314 in secret, the slave holding, paranoid, and totalitarian Hegemony began investigating. Valuable garden worlds and planets rife with resources ignited their greed; but when contact was made with a technologically inferior species, a campaign of easy conquest soon followed. Genocide, rape and enslavement followed gut-wrenching colonial raids while the most valuable of worlds were taken as the Batarians own.

A terrible toll was paid by humanity during those years, mentally, physically and spiritually. Through the endless battles fought throughout the First Defeats and the insurrections that were suppressed within, from cross species plagues brought by alien reavers to the infamous Blood Money Armistice: human life was spent, sold, or harvested to fuel a war the Batarians were uninterested in ending. Monstrous things would be done in the name of survival. Even as breakthroughs like the Teltin Procedures or the ADAM AI began to emerge, it would still be decades before the Human Systems Alliance could _start_ to bridge the technological divide. Billions of lives would be lost and tens of millions more enslaved before the tide would finally turn.

The wider galaxy-and the Batarian populace who weren't drafted to cross the hidden relay-was kept ignorant of the conflict for almost a century. From the outside looking in, the aliens of Council space lauded the Hegemony's emphasis of "internal development". As long as the traditional Batarian funded slavers and criminals were "reallocated" elsewhere, the races of the galaxy were content to let the Batarians be as secretive as it desired. During such years the Hegemony prospered, and carved a greater position of power for itself amongst its galactic neighbors. It wasn't until more than 90 years into this arrangement that the truth was made known to the highest authority in the Milky Way.

Salarian STG teams snuck past the Batarian security curtain: past the veiled excuses of an "internal slave rebellion" that the Hegemony used to justify a recent increase in colonial drafts and slow armament. It was there that the disturbing truth was made clear: a relay was hidden from the eyes of the galaxy and a species was locked in a protracted war for its survival. Not conquered, but heroically resisting. That had somehow-miraculously-managed managed to fight their way through the relay and secure a secret astral beachhead within Batarian territory.

Once it had realized the depth of the deception, the Council offered its sympathies to the long suffering race. But with the destruction wrought by the Terran Blitz less than a decade after contact was made, it was believed humanity was all but doomed. After receiving a token gift of support in supplies, humanity was abandoned by the Council in favor of sparing the galaxy the ire of the- likely-victorious Hegemony.

The Council's direct intervention would not occur until the end of this First Contact War: 113 years after it began. Long after the ravagement of the human home world and the Alliance's counter offensive across Hegemony space. The Turian Hierarchy, widely recognized as the peacekeepers of Council space, were mobilized into action by humanity's blatant disregard of Council sanctions during its indiscriminate retaliatory campaign; one that had set an entire sector of space afire from one end to the other.

The attempt to bring a renegade humanity to heel would be known as the Second Contact War: a brief but intense battle between the Hierarchy and the Alliance during the latter's invasion of Khar'shan. Control for the Batarian home world and the fate of its species was hotly contested for those few months both above and on the ground.

Fleets turned into flaring stars as they exchanged their munitions. Drop pods and landing craft fell like iron rain on a hapless populace. Every meter of ground on the fractured planet was paid for with blood, bullets and orbital artillery. Galactic War itself was narrowly averted with the signing of the Armistice and mandatory integration of humanity in council space.

Distrust and hostility is abundant from the council races, and most evident on the fortified line that marks the Khar'shan DMZ; where the Turians maintain a well fortified peninsula against the majority of the Alliance controlled planet and its dozen billion residents. A chaotic and never ending insurgency is fought against the human occupation on ruined Khar'shan, and across most of the former Hegemony worlds that were conquered by mankind. The situation is further exacerbated with those Batarian colonies that escaped the Alliance's wrath in the outlaw Terminus Systems. The Free Hegemony diehards-as they are called-are united only in their opposition against the Alliance and continue their long war: striking wherever they can however they can. The Alliance strains against its leash to fight back, doing everything it's allowed short of breaking the Armistice and invading.

Now, as a tense peace has settled, a scarred humanity attempts to find its place in the universe. The lessons taught from over a century of unending war are held dear. To survive in such an uncaring galaxy one must be more then ruthless. One must be learn to be a bastard.

Author notes: This is by no means the whole picture as made by College Fool, but an attempt to summarize to give a general idea of the new setting. (I'd still recommend the original read because this just doesn't do justice to the thought involved in it.) Context is always the first step to understanding, and now you know the context. That "would be war" that was simmering below the surface during the original Mass Effect Trilogy, with the "made to hate" Batarian race? _The one that was just begging to happen?_ Well it happened, and now you know why paragon sentiment is a dead creature. Humanity doesn't look up to the stars anymore and think of them with words like _hope_ and _wonder_. Humanity isn't the young species that's taking its baby steps into joining the galactic community. Humanity is not learning to set aside the immature attitude of xenophobia and trust in the good intentions of the alien. Mankind is scared, bitter, and paranoid; simmering with hostility against the rest of the universe for the worst possible of reasons.

They have every right to be.

_This_ is the reality that you're now living in.

_This_ is the Universe of Renegade Reinterpretations.

Welcome.


	5. Milk Run

"The Arcturus Prime Relay is in range initiating transmission sequence."

Commander Isaac Shepard was making his way around a corner, when he side stepped past an incoming soldier. The marine kept his stride while twisting himself to avoid the collision. "Commander," Jenkins said curtly as they passed one another.

The holographic projection of the galaxy hovered out of the corner of his eye, the Command Information Center was of a queer design, not like most human warships but he figured he'd get used to it soon enough. A balding officer in uniform paused to nod at him as the commander passed him.

"We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination" piped the voice of the pilot again. Shepard went up the small steps and across the short walkway to the cockpit. Crew members sat in chairs facing away from him in that metal hall, clicking and shifting the yellow holograms at their stations.

"The relay is hot, acquiring approach vector. All stations secure for transit."

He made his way past a final crew member examining a holo-pad and stopped a little bit behind and to the left of a towering figure in grey armor. The commander wanted to be _here_ when it happened.

"Board is green, approach run has begun."

"Hitting the relay in 3…2…1" said the pilot.

It went faster than the blink of an eye, but if he focused hard enough he thought he could feel the transition: a subtle shift in weight and a ghostly lurch of the stomach were the only signs that the Normandy just skipped thousands of light-years across the galaxy.

"Thrusters…check. Navigation…check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online. Drift…just under 1500K."

"1500 is shit," spoke the grey armored alien. It's flanging voice dripped contempt. "Turian pilots fly better in their sleep."

The Turian himself turned around and raised an arm to shove the commander out of his way. "Move" he barked.

Flight lieutenant Jeff Moreau turned around in his pilot seat, waiting until the alien was out of earshot. "I really hate that guy."

"I'd be more surprised if you found someone who loves him," replied his co-pilot.

"You and his mother both," quipped Shepard.

"I mean, come on! Were flying through space in a state of the art warship and I just hit a target window the size of a pinhead! How is that not impressive?"

The co pilot turned to speak to him "You'd think the Council would leave something as important as the Normandy to the Alliance alone? They want someone to oversee their investment; it'd make sense that they'd put an observer here."

"Uh yeah, but I'd feel better if he observed the inside of a black hole instead; spectre or no, the guys just asking for someone to deck him."

"Joker!" spoke a voice through the intercom. "Patch us in to the com, buoy. I want mission reports relayed back to Arcturus before we land on Eden Prime."

Joker sat straight in his seat at the command and said, "Yes sir! And brace yourself captain I think Saren's headed your way."

"He's already here Joker."

Joker closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and fore finger. "Tell Shepard to meet us in the debriefing room."

He sat back into his chair, "You catch all that commander?"

"I'm on my way."

Joker turned to look at his co-pilot as the commander walked back the way he came. "Tell me Kaiden, do you think Anderson sounds about as thrilled as our new guest as we are or is it just me?"

Kaiden smirked as Joker adjusted his cap; the man's eyes never left his screen as he answered, "Hard to tell Joker, the captain always sounds pissed when he's talking to you."

As Shepard made his way back into the CIC he glanced at the ship's crew around him. They were diligent in their work, focused, but he felt their tension in every movement they made. This Spectre probably had something to do with it, but he doubted it was the only reason. His gut told him it went deeper than that, but for _what_ he couldn't begin to guess. No matter, what he didn't know, he figured the captain would shed some light on it soon enough.

He was coming up to that same balding officer from earlier. He was hunched over eyeing a terminal, but he was speaking through the comm. in his uniform.

"You've seen the new guy Adams?"

"Saren? Nah, he didn't stop in engineering but I'm told he might pay a visit later."

"Be ready for him is all I'm saying."

"That bad?"

"He asked me if I fought in the '_Khar'shan Conflict'_, that's the bird's term for it, and I said 'yeah I served through the Second Contact War."

"How'd he respond?"

"He did that mandible twitch thing that they do and he said 'pity you didn't get shot down with the other apes."

"So…it's his time of the month. So what? If he wants to be an ass let 'em Pressly. Keep up the diplomacy and I'm sure he'll be out of our hair in no time."

"Says the ape who still has hair on his head," he responded. He turned and saw the commander standing by and turned to salute him. "Hello commander, debriefing room is further back, best not to keep the captain waiting I think."

Shepard looked at the Normandy's navigator, Tall he was, about the commanders own height but not as broad in the shoulders. His moustache was dark but peppered with grey like the beard he wore: stretching from his chin to both ears. The holographic galaxy map floated some distance behind the right shoulder of his blue uniform.

Rather than nod and move on the commander asked instead, "Saren giving you a hard time Pressly?"

The navigator nodded as he dropped his salute and replied, "He's giving everyone a hard time commander. Whatever good relations we may have made with the turians when they helped build this ship Saren's doing his best to piss all over it" he said sourly.

Shepard folded his arms across his chest and gestured with his chin to the area behind the officer, "Meet any other birds face to face before Pressly?"

The Navigator scratched at his own chin and said, "Personally? No sir. First time I met them was in orbit over some backwater colony at the edge of Hig space. I was stationed on the SSV Agincourt at the time when we took it from the bats. We were only sitting on it for a little while before the birds surprised us. They came ready to play: more troops and a hell of a lot more ships. We stalled them for as long as we could to buy time for our troop's planetside to evac but…"

Pressly look remorseful, lost in memory before finishing, "most didn't make it sir. But I promise you this much, they didn't buy anything cheap from us that day."

Shepard nodded and asked, "Did you see action in the First Contact War too by any chance?"

"Yes sir! Find me a man my age who didn't and I'll spit in his eye! My families fought against the alien since the Alliance was founded. If you could name the event I probably had a relative who fought and died in it. The First Defeats, the Battle of Arcturus Station, the Terran Blitz…"

"The March through the Traverse?"

Pressly shook his head, "No sir, I was hospitalized when the Fifth Fleet began that one."

Shepard looked thoughtful for a moment, "Pressly…may I ask you something? Off the record I mean."

"Anything sir."

"Did you serve with Captain Anderson before our current assignment? In either of the wars?"

"I never even knew he _existed_ during the wars sir, but judging from the deference he gets from the Powers That Be he must have done _something_ impressive, or a lot if even half the rumors about him are true. I mean, why else would the Brass put him in charge of training guys like you at all?"

"Point taken Pressly." He dropped his arms and nodded at the man "I'll leave you to it."

He nodded in turn, "Comamnder."

Shepard walked around him and took a dozen before another pair of crew members caught his attention. Two people were conversing directly ahead of him, near the commander's station at the rear of the deck (another facet of the Normandy's alien influences). A young man wore a casual uniform, complimented with a matching blue beret. He was leaning against the wall behind the commander's dais, the one that had the Normandy's name written on it in large white letters. Across from him was an older woman: with short cut grey hair and wearing a medical uniform.

The Commander made his way close enough to hear her remark "…you've been watching too many spy vids Jenkins."

"I'm telling you doc, I grew up on Eden Prime, it's a nice place to visit but why would they send a Spectre there? There's something about this shakedown run the captain ain't telling us..."

"Such as what Corporal?" interrupted the commander.

The Corporal stood to attention and saluted him, while the woman turned to reply, "Just talking about the state of affairs commander. Jenkins here seems convinced that something sinister is afoot."

"Really?" he turned to look at him. "Care to enlighten your XO on your theory?"

He dropped his salute and said, "Sure commander. I mean…it just doesn't seem to add up. I know the Normandy's important, and the Spectre being sent here proves that but…"

"But?" said the commander.

"…It just doesn't make sense to have a fully staffed crew on board for what should be a trial run. A skeleton crew would be cheaper, but why else would they send a full compliment if they weren't expecting some kind of trouble?"

The commander snapped his fingers, and pointed at the man. The sound was muffled through the gloves of the combat armor he wore, but the gesture was clear enough. He wagged that finger at Jenkins and turned to the woman.

"That's what I was waiting to hear doctor. One point to the corporal for using his head."

"So you really think they'll be action on this assignment sir?" Jenkins sounded excited at the prospect.

Doctor Chakwas was less thrilled at the idea, "I hope not corporal, the missions you're hoping for usually end with a lot of men in my infirmary, or else in a morgue."

"I know _that _doc", said Jenkins, whose tone made it clear he really didn't.

Chakwas turned to look at Shepard, and both shared the same mixed look of amusement and concern.

"Hey commander!" said Jenkins. Shepard turned to back to him. "I just had a thought! _You'd_ make a great Spectre! They're the right hand of the Council, made to protect and serve the galaxy by any means necessary. Always going up against impossible odds and winning impossible victories, just like you on Torfan!"

Something hardened in the Commander's eyes when Jenkins spoke that last sentence. Green eyes narrowed and stared un-winking at the corporal's own. Jenkins tried to speak through that gaze but he choked on the words in his throat. When Shepard finally did answer, his voice was calm but tight, "Torfan…was a clusterfuck of biblical proportions Jenkins. You best pray that you never come along a mission like it."

Jenkins wanted to say _yes sir_, but he could only nod mutely instead. He remained frozen in place until Chakwas broke the silence with an audible cough. She cleared her throat and asked "Was there something you needed commander?"

Another pause, "What do you guys think of Saren?"

"I've no doubt the man's competent, but I find that his attitude needs adjusting," said the doctor.

Jenkins looked relieved that the topic had shifted and nodded "Saren's just reminding everyone on board about why we don't like Turians in the first place sir."

Chakwas eyed Jenkins and said, "Its more than that corporal, he's reminding everyone on board why we don't like _aliens_ in the first place and that isn't fair in the least."

"Why's that?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"Because I think of those Batarians who volunteered to serve the Alliance, or fight in our military. Things are bad enough for them as is, but people like Saren just burn down any bridges they make with their efforts."

The commander found a question to ask Jenkins himself, "Do you know if any Batarian units are stationed on Eden Prime corporal?"

Jenkins flinched at the commanders voice but responded, "A handful sir, never more than that. Locals are still iffy about having the colonial remnants around at all, let alone ones that are armed. When I left to join up they were still undergoing reconstruction from the war."

Jenkins shook his head, "I thought to myself 'hey I can make a difference! I can stop _that_ from happening again!' but military life ain't what I thought it'd be. There's occupation duty sure, but unless you get some action under your belt like most of the guys you have a harder time earning any respect."

Shepard spoke in a more placating tone, "I think it would have been better if you stayed planetside Jenkins. Military service isn't as pressing as it used to be, especially if you compare it to the Dark Times. Back then, a marines 'respect' was measured as living past the four week life expectancy. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Shepard shifted his body and began his walk anew to the debriefing room. He felt that he was pushing his luck enough as it was, and didn't feel like dallying for another moment. Jenkins answered at his retreating back, "Oh have a heart commander!" his tone was light and friendly. "Even life in paradise gets boring after awhile!"

The commander did not pause his stride as he made his way to the automatic doors. He did not look back for a moment as they parted before him. "That's because you have yet to taste hell Jenkins."

Whatever reply the corporal was going to make to his XO the doors slid shut before his words.

Shepard walked down a small ramp to the debriefing room. It was circular in shape, with about eight seats or so spread out at even intervals along its edges. Railing was built in to surround the outer edges of the ring, a darker color then the shining metal of the walls.

A holographic still image was projected on the opposite side of the circle, directly across from the ramp. It showed a city in the distance with tall spires, spread out leisurely on land that gave away to rolling hills and grasses the color of jade. Blue construction cranes betrayed the extent of the original damage to the settlement, but the rusty hue of the rising sun made for a breathtaking sight.

And standing in front of it was Saren Arterius.

"Commander," he said, his arms folded across his chest while his eyes remained on the screen.

"Where's the captain?" asked Shepard. "Where's Anderson?"

"Running errands like a good monkey I'm sure. I was hoping that I'd get you alone, gives us a chance to talk. One alien to the other."

"So talk."

"I've been looking up this planet that we'll be arriving at: Eden Prime." He seemed to spit the title out, as if the words disgusted him. "Stolen from you during your First Defeats and won back decades later. It's become something of a symbol for your kind hasn't it? That humanity can whether the storms and take back what's rightfully its own. Despite the toll of war, I will admit it is a…paradise", he gestured with a clawed digit at the screen.

Shepard looked at the image Saren was fixated on. "They still tell horror stories you know" his voice subdued in thought, "about life under Batarian rule. The plantations that stretched beyond the horizon, working families to death in the mines, the _safaris _they held when they were bored…"

"My heart bleeds."

"One can hope."

At that comment, Saren chose to turn around and approach the commander. Turians were about the same height as a man, but Saren was about a foot taller in person and wider in the chest. He towered over the commander so that the neck of his grey armor was at eye level. A black cloth was wrapped across the top of his head, covering his neck until it vanished into his combat suit.

"I'll make something clear to you ape", he said as he looked down at him. "Your kind got off soft with the Armistice. It's the galaxies biggest mistake that your even here in front of me."

"Is that what your father said when he first met you?"

Saren leaned his face in closer to the commander; his breath was hot on the human's nose and cheeks. Shepard had a hard time reading his expression, but if the rate his mandibles were twitching were any indication, the alien was less than pleased at the joke.

"Watch yourself human, you're tied into my good graces in more ways than one."

Shepard matched the turians stare, and titled his head to the right as he answered "As far as pickup lines go, I think that's the worst one I ever heard."

Saren jerked his head back a fraction of an inch in surprise before letting out a low snarl. He looked like he was about to let loose with a venomous retort before the doors parted and Captain Anderson walked down.

"Shepard!" he said.

The commander kept eyeing Saren as he eyed him in turn, until the turian let out a snort and took a step back. Shepard waited until Saren turned around to face the screen before spinning on his heels and saluting his CO.

"Reporting as ordered sir", he said crisply.

Anderson wore the uniform of a captain, surprisingly bare of medals and other commendations. But when he moved he held himself with the casual confidence of a veteran. "At ease Sheaprd," he said. Anderson squinted at Saren over the commander's shoulder and looked back to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Just shooting the breeze sir."

"Are you going to tell your pet monkey the real reason were here, or should I?" said Saren.

Anderson ignored that, the commander frowned. Shepard turned to ask the captain walking around him "What gives sir?"

Anderson stopped some distance between the both of them, maybe it was because of the question, or maybe it was to play mediator between the two. He turned back towards the commander and stated bluntly "We found a Prothean beacon on Eden Prime."

The captain saw Shepard's eyes widen in surprise, "Intact?" he asked.

"We don't know for certain…but based on what we've seen so far the answer is yes."

Shepard was floored at that revelation. An intact Prothean beacon? Intact technology of the one race whose ruined accomplishments made the Space Age possible for every race in the known _galaxy_? The implications were staggering.

"Henceforth the secrecy Shepard, if news got out that there was an intact beacon, everyone and their mother would want to get their hands on it. It'd be tempting enough for the aliens in the Terminus to start a war over it or worse: there might be a chance that the Free Hegemony could attain it."

"And so", he elaborated, "_that's_ why were using the Normandy. Its stealth drive will allow us to walk in, pick it up and bring it back to Council space for analysis."

"Trying to be good galactic neighbor's sir?"

Anderson nodded, "It would be a huge relief to Alliance and Council relations…"

"…Or maybe it's due to the fact that the Alliance doesn't have the appropriate technology to decode it. Probably the only reason why they bothered to notify the Council at all, when you dug it up during colonial repairs", said Saren.

Shepard pointed at the turians back and looked to Anderson, "He's here to make sure we hand it over sir?"

"Not…quite commander."

Anderson hesitated to finish that sentence.

Not a good sign.

"Saren was sent here on behalf of the Council to evaluate you as a candidate for the Spectre's."

"What?" said Shepard. For one of rare times in his life Shepard was speechless, and damned if anyone could blame him for it.

"It's true commander", said Anderson. You're valid because you aren't a clone, nor were you born before the Armistice was signed. Because you meet those criteria, the Council has decided to send one of their best to evaluate you on what will be the first of several missions."

_Perfect _he thought.

He would sound stupid for asking it but he couldn't help it, "Why me sir?"

"Because human, the Spectres only take the best, and you for all intents and purposes are _it_."

Saren turned around to face both of them and took a step forward. "I will admit ape, despite your heritage I was impressed by your actions during your Torfan operation. I found you're…thoroughness to be commendable." Saren's voice sounded strained, maybe because it wasn't used to being polite.

"Really?" said Shepard.

Saren nodded, "Of course commander, it was nothing that I wouldn't do myself."

Shepard said nothing to that.

"God willing this'll be a milk run Shepard," said Anderson. "The last thing we need is for something as important as a beacon too…"

"Sir!" cut Joker through the intercom.

"What is it Joker?" said Anderson.

We got a distress signal from Eden Prime sir; I think you should see it."

"Patch it on screen."

As one, the three of them turned in unison and looked at the projection. Gone was the image of green hills and azure waters. In their place was a chorus of screams and the detonations of explosives. Marines traded curses and spat gunfire at shadowy figures, shifting beyond the vision of the recording as woodland burned around them: inking a bleeding sky thick with smoke.

Hell had come back to paradise once more.

The video shook-a helmet cam-by any indication as the operator dropped into the muck. The blue armored form of a marine shoved a foot onto his scrambling form. "Stay down!" she yelled, punctuating the order with a long burst from her rifle.

The man's vision shifted to the other marines nearby, many of which had ceased fire to gape at something beyond the sight of the camera. Even the female marine stopped her curses at the men around her and stared mouth agape as well.

The camera shifted to the left at what the soldiers stared at, even as grenades and gunfire kept up a noisy racket they still hadn't moved. Men winced in pain, some even staggered and dropped their weapons as an earth shaking screech was heard above the symphony of war.

It sounded like the roar of the damned, or the dying scream of some metal beast. Through the smoke, a giant form pierced the smog; red lightning cascaded along its form as it fired a red laser at the troops below…

Static.

The video ended abruptly.

"That's all there is sir, the signal cuts off from there."

"Rewind and pause at 0355 Joker."

At the captains command the screen went back to the still image of the giant monstrosity. It was black in color, clearly mechanical, but its shape was…well.._alien_. In his 11 years of service, the commander had seen designs for many different warships, but he had never seen any like the one before him.

The ship reminded him of the mythical kraken, in terms of appearance. It remained erect and vertical, hovering some distance above the soil of the planet. It was frozen the moment it lifted a metal tentacle, the red light winking at its tip proved it to be the origin of the laser.

An uneasy feeling crawled up the commander's spine and into his brain the longer he looked at the thing.

"Were still forty five minutes out from Eden Prime sir."

"Joker?"

"Yes sir?"

"Activate the stealth drive and take us in nice and quiet. Shepard, get a team together and prep the Hammerhead for deployment."

"Small units will be more efficient than the vehicle," said Saren. "We'll move fast and light and rendezvous at the digsite."

He turned around and began heading to the ramp "Don't keep me waiting."

Shepard turned to follow himself, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Confused he turned around and asked "Sir?"

Like Joker from earlier, Anderson waited until Saren was out of earshot before replying. Shepard turned to face his stony expression.

"Commander, I don't think I need to tell you how badly the Alliance wants this Spectre thing to go through. Having you brought into the ranks will be one step closer to getting humanity a Council seat. We know it, they know it, and unfortunately Saren knows it too."

"They could have sent someone who was less of a prick sir, if you don't mind me saying."

Anderson nodded, "That's just it commander, Saren's an outspoken critic on human expansion: he thinks humanity's the next biggest threat to galactic stability as the Krogan or the Rachni were before us. The last thing he'd want is for us to carve a stronger position for ourselves."

A pregnant silence entered the room and settled heavily between them. Shepard narrowed his eyes at his captain's and his silent warning. "You'd think he'd deliberately _sabotage_ my evaluation sir?"

"I wouldn't put it past him commander. Be on guard when you get down there, at _all_ times."

Shepard saluted him and turned to walk back up the ramp.

_So much for a milk run_ he thought.


	6. Feet First

Shepard was doing a check on his weapons on a work bench, the hanger and Saren to his right; the co-pilot Kaiden and the corporal Jenkins behind him. Most of the weapons he was doing a once over were painted in the dark blue of Alliance firearms: the phalanx pistol with laser sight…the Harrier assault rifle with extended clip…and the Indra sniper rifle with thermal scope. All except the piranha shotgun, its topside drum was grey black like Shepard's own armor; the N7 designation on the butte of the rifle matched the one over his heart.

He picked up that weapon last and pocketed a silencer from the table as an afterthought. He walked towards the hanger doors and saw Saren attaching a silencer to a carnifex; a pistol powerful enough to punch holes in Krogan hide. A screech of metal signaled the opening hanger as Alenko and Jenkins finished their prep and jogged towards the growing source of light. A shifting countryside was seen through a howling wind: boulders, trees, and rivers unfolded before their eyes as the Normandy began its descent from the skies.

Through the whirlwind, as Jenkins put on his helmet and sealed it to his armor he looked towards Saren and shouted, "You're not coming with us?!"

Saren was still examining his pistol. Without so much as glancing at the corporal he said "You'd only slow me down."

And at that he leapt out the hangar.

Saren glowed a purple that drifted off of him like wisps of smoke as he fell: his momentum unnaturally slow and graceful. _A biotic_ Shepard thought, as the turian landed with a flourish in a stream and began sprinting. Alenko turned to Jenkins and shouted into his ear, "Show off!"

Anderson walked to them from the rear, unperturbed by the rushing air. When the Normandy lowered enough for them to jump off safely the captain ordered, "Find the beacon Shepard! Everything else is secondary!" He pointed at him, "including survivors!" Shepard jerked his helmet in a quick nod. Anderson gestured with his hands for them to deploy.

Out they jumped, their impacts cushioned by soft grass. Shepard craned his neck to see the captain do a turnabout and vanish into the bowels of the rising frigate. Roaring with its thrusters, the Normandy gained height and disappeared into the sky.

"What the hell is _that_?"

Shepard turned sharply at the question, his gaze focused to where Alenko gestured with his shotgun. _That _was a floating creature, bloated and farting loudly as it drifted along the wind current.

"Gasbag", said Jenkins. "They're harmless."

"Come on", said Shepard, "beacons that way." The hud winked with a nav marker in the visor of his helmet, the duel blue lights in the corner of his vision signaled his squad mates saw it as well. "Right behind you commander", said Alenko as the marines started jogging towards a tree line and into the woods beyond.

* * *

Sergeant Ashley Williams was pelted with pebbles and soil after the detonation of a hastily flung grenade. Through the brown fog of airborne dirt, she raised her rifle over the broken window still and fired blindly. She smiled as she heard the scream of a wounded attacker and more curses from the hostiles outside.

The surviving marines had managed to fallback to a house, overlooking yellowing pastures from the top of a hill. A swift flowing river blocked access to their position from the right, limiting the enemies approach to the north and west across open ground. They had attempted to attack from the woods to the south using trees for cover; but those trees closest to the hill had caught fire from incendiary ammunition a while ago.

The humans were fighting for the last hour or so, having been steadily pushed back from the dig-site and the main housing complexes by superior numbers. If Williams looked she could make out the metallic buildings in the distance. She looked at the clock in her helmet; it was twenty seven minutes since they last radioed the nearest garrison for backup.

Her rifle beeped as the barrels glowed red. She dipped back behind a couch and slapped the eject button on the weapon. The thermal clip came out as an orange comet as she shifted herself to a man made opening in the wall. She started to lay down fire before a whistle and _thunk_ preceded a yell behind her. Williams glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw a bearded and helmetless McCormick scream in agony as he writhed on the floor. What looked like a thin, spiked metal pipe was lodged deep in his abdomen. His attempt to tear out the barbed metal resulted in his hands turning into a ruined mess. Different sections of the metal rotated, causing the protrusion to shred itself deeper into his body.

McCormick screamed murder; he screamed for his mother, he screamed to God for the pain to stop as his life and intestines poured out before him onto the floor.

There was no easy way to die from a Kishock Harpoon.

"McCormick's down!"

She turned back and fired at an armored man attempting to throw a grenade from behind a rock. Her incendiary rounds struck his chest and arm, setting them on fire a moment before the grenade exploded. His cry of shock cut off as his area became a smoking crater.

McCormick was still screaming himself, until a gunshot ended his cries abruptly. Williams didn't turn around to look at the noise but went back to work. One of the marines by the charred metal of the front door screamed something.

She fired two bursts and took out an assailant before she heard the words.

"Sarge?!"

"What?!"

"No clips!"

"Burst fire! Give it time between shots to cool off! Nirali! Any word from the garrison?!"

"None sir!"

"Sarge, Devereux needs relief!"

"Head to the second floor and snipe 'em from there!"

She crawled towards another firing position and pressed herself into cover. From here she squinted to the area beyond, cursing herself for losing the beacon. Every moment they dallied here meant that the hostiles had another moment to secure it for travel off planet. As she poked her head out to aim she saw something in the distance by the houses, the scrambling ant like forms of distant figures and slow moving monstrosities that hulked over them.

Atlas Mechs!

Never before had she been so happy to see the heaving, dark blue machines. One was approaching their position at a jog, only a few hundred meters off from their hill and closing the distance.

She felt like cheering as it slammed a robotic foot in the ground and fired the missile launcher from its shoulder at the enemies to their front.

She turned to yell triumphantly, "Reinfor-"

Her world went white and silent.

The missile made to take out tank armor, had no issue with piercing the flimsy roof of a civilian hab and take out the second floor. Metal, plastics and debris rained down on her as the ceiling shattered under the force of the blast.

She was still on the floor as her head sung a shrill song in her ears. When a trembling hand touched her wet face, it came back red from her nose; if her kinetic barrier had failed to take the brunt of the blast she'd be dead.

Instinct kicked in at that point, along with the armors reserves of adrenalin. She rolled over as she prepped the omni-tool on her arm and aimed it at the first thing that entered the remains of the first floor. The glow was bright through the haze of dust drifting through the ventilated building.

Through that haze, through the broken glass of her flickering hud she saw her enemy. Helmetless and sporting crude spikes on its shoulders, a Kishock rifle in his hands. The alien beamed at her as if she was a friend, smiling at her with needle like teeth before its four eyes went wide as it recognized that particular glow.

It was too slow.

The solid hologram on her forearm projected blade like protrusions above her wrist. The ballistic knives found a new home in its face, neck and chest as the alien went backward from the shot. A moment later, she was rewarded with a shower of red as the knives detonated.

As she got up, another Batarian ran through the wall firing at her with a shotgun. The sergeant welcomed him into the home with a glowing omniblade in his intestines. As she dragged it across, spilling boiling entrails onto the floor; as she grabbed the previous Batarians weapon in a roll as bullets stitched the floor around her.

She stopped herself in a crouching position and aimed outside. Her rifle hissed with compressed air as its harpoon struck a charging Batarian, the projectile tearing itself through his armor and through his ribcage.

As the last ebb of the adrenalin flowed through her, the ringing ceased. She could hear herself screaming, "Fall back to the woods!"

She didn't know if any of her could hear her let alone if they were alive. Regardless of whatever remnants of Eden's Prime 212 were capable of limping away, she knew she was going to die here. It didn't matter now if held them or took as many of them as she could with her.

She flipped the weapon in her hands, holding it like a bat as she heard a crash to her side. Stepping off with a foot and she struck as hard as she could into the face of a shooting alien: its own kinetic barrier incapable of halting the physical blow, while her own held against his spasming trigger finger.

She followed it to the ground and projected an omni-blade into his jugular. A boot to the back of her skull made her fall forward on top of the dying man. Hands from behind gripped her leg and twisted violently. She rolled with the momentum and dislocated the jaw of her attacker with a kick. A foot long holographic blade protruded from her left hand as she jabbed it into his groin and twisted.

A rush of bodies piled on top of her through the Batarians wailing. They pinned her arms down and struck at her savagely with armored boot and fist: screaming at her in their tongue as they took their vengeance out of her piece by piece.

* * *

A batarian patrol was jogging through the woods; the loose formation they moved in indicated they had some semblance of discipline. Garbed in a mixed assortment of armor and weapons, some of which was of Alliance manufacture crudely painted over, the group was led by a scarred, three eyed batarian. Three-Eyes roared at them, "Keep moving! If any of you keep me from killing those traitors in blue I'll rip your fucking eyes out!"

The patrol picked up the pace after that order. So preoccupied were they in moving, they failed to pay attention at the landscape around them, let alone the ground at their feet…

"Now", said Shepard

A flash bang was tossed biotically by Alenko, bursting over the heads of the hostiles.

The marines assault rifles punted softly with silencers; firing into the backs of the patrol in controlled bursts. Methodical and thorough: they aimed at the ones furthest away from the detonation while the remainder let out confused yells.

The Alliance had learned long ago that biotic's was one of the handful of methods that could bypass an armors kinetic barriers. Using modified warp ammo, Kaiden and Shepards weapons tore gaping wounds in flesh; destroying their targets armor in the same method as a ships disruptor torpedoes. Jenkins's own weapon mod of the same name ate its way through their shields, shocking the targets with electricity after their kinetic barriers were drained.

The fire team got through half of them before Shepard spent a thermal clip to cool his rifle. By that point the squad was almost wiped out. Some of the batarians fired at one another in their confusion panic or tried to run behind the trees for cover: a decision which only prolonged the inevitable.

As the last batarian fell with a choked grunt Shepard asked, "Clear?"

Jenkins and Alenko responded, "Clear".

The commander stood up in a crouching position, scanning the world around him with the hud in his helmet. Satisfied he got on his feet and jogged his way over to the bodies. Jenkins and Alenko rose from their own positions and arrived at the scene of the slaughter. They walked amongst the dead and dying, kicking a body or two that showed signs of life and putting quiet bursts into their froms.

Shepard found what he was looking for-the scarred batarian's body-and put a bullet in his side. The body jerked from the shot but did not respond. Kneeling over he plucked the communication device from his ear with his left hand and tossed it to Alenko.

"Patch us into their frequency."

"Sir."

"You alright Jenkins?"

Jenkins popped a thermal clip from his gun, "Yes sir."

"You're shaking corporal."

"Just nerves sir."

Shepard heard and walked over to a groaning batarian. He rolled him over with his foot; a purple shimmer around his body betrayed his intentions. The alien begged for a moment before he brought it down on its face. The biotically charged stomp popped the dying man's head like a water balloon, as the commander ground the bone and brain tissue under his heel.

"Anything?" he said to Alenko.

"Hang on…got it commander, patching us in"

The radio buzzed to life in Shepard's helmet. "Clear this up?"

His omnitool activated. "Give me a second….annnnd…done"

"…spent an hour rooting those fuckers from a hill", said an irate voice in his helm. "Some ape bitch killed six of our guys before we brought her down."

A second voice spoke up "Hope it was slow."

"It will be: Uva wants to spike her with the others we took to the dig-site further up hill. Don't know how long their supposed to take, we still haven't heard a peep from the boys the next town over, but should be fun to watch her twitch."

"I thought they were supposed to be dead for that?"

"Nah, that just makes them easier to deal with. Anyway were hunkering down with the other guys in the habs closest to the dig site. We took one of the big mechs from a base nearby, so were sending it to you along with another dozen of the boys to help ya at the ridge. Corq's squad should get there first."

"Nice."

Shepard clicked the radio off, Alenko eyed him and asked, "_Spiking_ commander?"

"Fuck if I know LT."

Shepard blinked and a map conjured before his eyes. He took a quick peak and said, "Alright team you heard the man. If we're here and the ridge is east, we can intercept that delivery…here", he marked it on the map, "before they get too far."

"Commander?" said Jenkins

"They're digging in corporal, were going to root 'em out. Now move!"

* * *

Williams attempt to come back to reality was delayed with a pistol whip across her nose. The feeling of splintered cartilage made her eyes shoot open and spit blood reflexively, as a second strike founds its mark in her cheek.

Through the darkness she felt her legs being dragged underneath her with hard hands. She was carried her by her arms by two batarians past the outskirts of the housing and through a pass uphill. Aliens walking by jeered and laughed at her.

One batarain grabbed her by her hair and tore a few strands by the roots as her eyes fluttered. "You castrated my brother bitch," he growled. "You better be awake to feel this."

She grit her teeth and replied, "Fuck you, you four-eyed bat shit"

The alien growled something fierce, as he replied with his elbow in her teeth. She sputtered tooth fragments as she was brought upwards to the source of her final failure: the beginning of the dig site.

Somewhere, from on high, she knew her grandfather was watching.

The thought didn't bring her a bit of comfort.

* * *

Shepard heard the hulking mech. before he saw it. The three claw like fingers of its left hand uprooted trees, or kicked them over with its feet. Its noisy actions proved the operator's eagerness to get to his field of slaughter. The figures around the base of the armored giant were arrogant in their strides, laughing and hooting as they made their way to their destination.

Shepard peered from behind the cover of a boulder. Crouched down in the dry mud of a riverbed, Alenko and Jenkins waited nearby: behind a fallen tree and in a man-sized ditch respectively. Jenkins peered over his cover, he couldn't see from his angle but even a deaf man would have a hard time missing that racket.

"What do we do sir?"

Shepard peered behind his cover and switched to the shotgun mag-locked to his back.

He eyed Alenko, whom nodded in turn. The lieutenant spoke for his commander, "Now you get to see some magic."

Shepard got out of his cover and faced the direction of the enemy. Purple energy flared around him as he felt the biotic amp in his brain stimulate the element zero nodules in his nervous system. He brought his arms back, encasing himself in the purple shell of a biotic barrier before launching himself forward.

The group was still a few hundred meters distant, but a mass effect field bent gravity and distorted mass. In effect, the commander charged the gap between himself and his targets, phasing through nature's obstacles and slamming into the mech. with the force of a speeding landtruck.

The blast detonated the biotic barrier that protected him. Causing the mech. to stagger a step backwards from the impact; as the explosion bent trees over and tossed soldiers into the air with shattered bones and pulped organs.

Less than a heartbeat after that, the commander drew the energy into his left fist. With a roar he concentrated it all into single point and slammed it into the ground. The burst of power went through the earth under and around him: causing the ground to crack open and the resulting shockwave to crush everything within a dozen meters of his position.

It was enough to send the mech. flat onto its back with a crash.

Nerves afire, his brain tingling, the commander gripped the shotgun in his hand and ran towards the downed machine. He scrambled on top of the vehicle, and aimed the shotgun through the small glass opening that revealed the face of its pilot. Dark grey glass exploded along with red mist as the commander emptied the automatic shotgun through the plate.

When that was done, he reloaded and looked behind him: through the settling dust and leaves of his devastation, to see Alenko and Jenkins rush in after him. Alenko arrived first, closing the distance quickly with two quick charges of his own biotic abilities. Jenkins arrived a minute later, scanning the environment for any remaining hostiles.

There were none.

"Holy shit!" said Jenkins in a reverential tone. "That's what biotics can do?!"

Shepard's shields activated again in that moment, a blue shimmer hummed around him as reached through the opening of the Atlas and clicked the access button inside. The armored cocoon opened and as the commander dragged the batarian corpse out of it Alenko replied. Scanning with his rifle still at the environment around him he said, "that's what the Teltin Procedures can do."

"In Jenkins!" ordered the commander.

Jenkins whistled as he got into the pilot's seat. "Makes me wish I was a brain boy is all, if the Alliance could make me do that kinda shit."

"As long as you're ok with getting brain damage at 90 corporal", said Alenko dryly. "But hell, who wants to live forever?"

Jenkins activated the Atlas, little blown out lights along its sides sparked as it hummed back to life. As the mech. rolled over to stand upright, Shepard said, "Jenkins I need you to go in and make some noise: draw as much attention as you can while me and the LT slip in through the backdoor. When things get too heavy, head back to the woods and pick'em off from there. Strafe the hab blocks and don't get bogged down going through them."

"Yes sir!" said Jenkins, as he rose on two armored feet.

Shepard pointed at him than to their objective beyond "Now say hello to our neighbors."

"Oh hell yes" said Jenkins.


	7. KNOCK KNOCK

Jenkins put one mechanized foot in front of the other until the woodland gave away to an empty plain of green. The civilian housing perched in the distance looked squat but functional, before yielding to a hillside and the dig-site beyond it. The Atlas hummed as the servos worked it into a jog towards the area.

As the wind kissed his exposed mouth and chin, Jenkins wished for the umpteenth time that the commander hadn't blown out the protective glass. _Get close but not _too_ close_ he warned himself. He wouldn't be able to stop a sniper from putting one below his visor, but he could limit the odds of a stray bullet giving him a second mouth.

He cycled through the vehicle armaments as he moved; his own hud hooked up to the vehicles virtual intelligence as it listed his weapons.

The twin chain guns hooked up underneath the magnetic accelerator cannon of his right arm were primed and ready, while his left hand had a mini element zero generator built into its palm: designed to generate mass effect fields that would constantly shift. Any target near that hand would shred apart in close quarters if the three clawed fingers didn't do the job first.

Jenkins halted the mech. about halfway through the field and began cycling through the missile types. The top of the atlas remained fixated on the housing complexes, the lower torso rotated to keeping him moving as he bagan his strafing run.

What counted as an attention getter? The mech. had six missiles and one was used already. Armor piercing? No. Heat seeking? No. Warp torpedo? No…Jenkins smiled as he read the next selection and primed it for use.

_Mod?_

The virtual intelligence of the vehicle quipped the question in his visor. He blink clicked _Incendiary_ and fired the ordnance from his shoulder. The missile arced through the air, trailing behind grey smoke as it soared.

The little VI in the warhead calculated the appropriate distance before detonating mid-air. The Cluster missile's bright red payload spread over a third of the complexes in front of him, carpeting it in both from end to end with fire and explosions.

Jenkins whooped with childlike glee as he heard screams on the wind. Smiling still, he kept his vehicle moving until intact grey buildings filled his sight. _Herd 'em in_ he thought, as he positioned himself to the houses furthest on his left. Jenkins primed the MAC cannon and fired, blowing out the front half of a building as the VI revved the chain guns.

"Armor piercing" he ordered.

The rattle of the twin linked weapons was loud in his ears as he made a steady sweep with his right arm. Habs were chewed apart under a roaring hail of led, punctuated with blasts from the cannon. As ordered, he kept his vehicle at a distance as he leveled homes row by row: sending both organic and artificial debris flying.

Everything within his immediate line of sight fell to pieces at his onslaught: the temporary occupants within dying almost immediately. The few that managed to make their way out were gunned down in rapidly deteriorating cover. Many had to choose between the hammer of the mech. and the anvil of buildings consumed by a raging inferno. Every now and again, the walking torch that was a screaming batarian would pop up before being cut down by the Atlas.

Jenkins worked the mech. in a brisk walk: trampling over ruined habs and firing as he went. His goal being to get a better angle at the houses he had yet to demolish. A grenade detonated over his shoulder, the explosion rippling across his shields as he turned and fired the MAC cannon at the foolish perpetrator. Small explosions greeted the larger one, the grenade launchers munitions going off all at once. He used the chain guns to cut the house laterally, collapsing the second story on top of the first.

His momentum unperturbed, he ran through another building and crushed a trembling batarian under his heel. Another fired at him with a machine gun. He reached with his left hand and grabbed the batarian in his claws. ""Naughty naughty!" he said, as he crushed with an armored plated fist. As the corporal tossed the broken body at a wall, and gunfire rippled across his armor, his radio buzzed in his helmet.

"Jenkins!"

"Yes sir?!" he roared

"Some bat's want to retreat up hill, teach them otherwise!"

"Wilco sir!" he answered.

Jenkins craned his neck to see a half dozen survivors retreating up the incline. He primed the MAC cannon and fired it once, than twice. A fountain of dirt and red gore greeted the explosions, followed by a smoking crater.

"Beautiful Jenkins!" said the commander. "Play nice now!" the radio clicked off.

Jenkins laughed as he turned and ventilated buildings with his guns, picking up the remains of a wall, sending it through the front door of a house and smashing a shooting batarian.

As the world was set aflame, with the screams of the damned drowned out by the weapons singing in his ears Jenkins laughed. For the briefest of moments he was God: and terrible was his wrath on those that displeased him.

Williams inhaled dirt as the boot on her neck kept her pinned to the ground. Through the bright light of the reddening sky she was brought back to the present with the yelling voices of her would be executioners.

"They got a fucking mech!" one of them screamed shrilly.

"So send teams 4 and 7 to deal with it! We'll spike the bitch and come after!"

"Sure! We'll deal with the fucking machine why you and your boyfriend here grow a quad! Make it quick!"

Sergeant Ashley Williams opened her eyes to see the form of a metal tripod. The boot came off her neck and a hand yanked her back by the hair, she tried to activate her omniblade to stab at the man but a boot to her groin stopped her.

Hands grabbed her upper arms and dragged her onto her back. Her ankles were gripped by another assailant, who kept a firm hold on her bucking legs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the top half of the tripod and started to buck harder.

A tall, white spike extended from the device at least 3 meters above its base. Its top half dripped a steady flow of red, as the armored corpse of a marine dangled from the impalement through her midsection. Ashley Williams screamed in rage and despair as they pinned her to an un-actived tripod.

Looking at the world upside down, she saw the grinning batarian slobber with laughter. Over his shoulder, Pvt. Nirali Bhatia stared at her sergeant with unblinking with open eyes as the blood oozed from her mouth.

"Twitch for me you cunt!" the batarain laughed.

"Lift" barked Shepard.

Both batarians were yanked back at the strength of the two biotics. The mass effect field coating their bodies kept them still as they floated mid-air. Shepard and Alenko emptied their rifles into the alien ragdolls as Williams flipped over back onto the ground; right at the moment the metallic spike stabbed up into the sky.

The two batarians were left floating for a few more moments before the fields collapsed, dropping them onto the ground. Williams scrambled for a pistol before an order reached her ears "Friendlies! Hold fire!"

She looked up and saw two humans make their way towards her, both glowed purple from the use of their biotics. One had the traditional blue armor of an Alliance space marine, while the other sported black armor with red highlights. Pained though she was, Williams felt a tingle of awe beneath chest as she saw the N7 sigil on his breast.

"You hurt?" said the N7, as he dropped to a knee and started scanning her with his omnitool.

"Pride and nose sir", she said, as the black face of the marine looked at the pale flesh of her own. "Name, rank and unit" he said as he fumbled for the med pouch on his belt.

She stopped him with a hand and staggered upright, "Sergeant Ashley Williams, Eden Prime 212th. Reinforcements sir?" she asked.

"Negative sergeant, were here for the beacon. You had some blood loss but nothing too serious. Can you hold a weapon?"

"Fuck yes sir."

"Commander", said Alenko. Shepard turned and saw him gesture with his rifle at the tripods around them. "I saw it lieutenant", he nodded. "Least we know what spiking means."

"Odd way to execute people", said Alenko.

"I saw them do that to everyone LT, corpses too"

"Why?" he asked.

Williams shrugged.

"Doesn't matter", cut in Shepard, "we'll kill the Higs all the same"

Williams gathered thermal clips from batarian bodies. "This really the Free Hegemony's work sir?" she asked.

Shepard gave a shrug of his own,"what other group of batarians are angry enough to pull this off?" he said.

"Doesn't make any sense", said Alenko, "I can see insurgents, but the fucking Higs don't have the resources to strike a colony this deep in human space."

"Probably The Black Ship", said Williams as she stood took a weapon. "Hit us out of nowhere, bats came in and pushed us out the dig site…the rest of my platoon…"

"Dead or gone sergeant we'll handle it afterwards, but right now I need you to focus. Can you lead us to the dig site?"

Williams smacked the sniper rifle in her hands; it let out a puff of compressed steam as its lights winked on. "Follow me commander."

All in all they made good time to the dig-site. Battered through she was the sergeant kept up a solid pace. Though an eye swollen shut from her mauling she aimed through the scope of her sniper rifle with her left eye. Angry as she was, she remained disciplined: every bullet found its mark through helmets, noses and teeth through the invaders rearguard.

Shepard approved of the woman's controlled aggression, feeling oddly satisfied to see her take her vengeance on the enemy. His inflated mood was somewhat dampened by the flickering radar in his hud the closer they made it to the dig-site. Than his good mood fell out of his stomach and into his feet the moment the three of them arrived: past the construction vehicles, past mountains of dirt and empty houses to a large vacant hole in the ground.

Williams stopped and stared. "It was here this morning sir! The bats must have moved it somewhere else."

"Fuck", snarled the commander.

"Ok, we can figure this out. Sergeant, what would be the fastest route out of this area?"

Shepard saw the sergeant turn around to respond, only to see her eyes widen in shock. Ahead of conscious thought, the commander threw a biotic barrier over the three of them. A blast rippled across the purple shielding followed by a second and third.

"Snipers at the habs! Right side!" shouted Williams.

Purple energy flared around the lieutenant's right arm. He spun on his heel and shot his hand through the barrier. He let loose a shockwave of power that tore the ground and shattered the walls of the habitation buildings.

Alenko threw out another such blast, than another at the area around the buildings before the commander ordered him to cease. As one, they made their way over to destroyed houses.

Shepard scanned with his eyes and nodded "Alright…looks clear." He let down the barrier and said, "Sergeant…" before an object bounced over his shoulder too the ground at his feet.

Shepard had a split second to realize it was a grenade.

Alenko reacted first, throwing a barrier over the object before it detonated. The barrier was strong enough to stop the shrapnel, but it burst under the force of the blast. All three of them were sent flying backwards on onto their backs and asses.

Head ringing, Shepard blinked the soil that found its way into his eyes; he turned over to yell for his squad mates. Movement caught his eye, off to the side he saw light from the fading sun bounce off of a moving shimmer. Whoever it was, his omnitool glowed on along his right arm. The holographic projection came out over his wrist hand in the form of a forked obeject: electricity crackled visibly between its two points.

Shepard reached out his hand and extended a biotic blast into his ribcage, crushing the attacker's chest and throwing it backwards several meters. Lightning cascaded from its gauntlet as it hit the ground in a tumble.

Gunfire choked off from his left. Williams was on her back and firing over the commander at another cloaked fighter coming up behind him. Alenko was furthest away, and the first one on his feet. He yanked the shotgun off his back and fired at anything that moved around him. Strange mechanical chirps were sounded after his shots, going silent as the bark of the weapon ceased as well.

Silence descended once more.

"Clear?" asked Shepard

Alenko looked around them and said "Looks that way."

Shepard ignored the ironic tone in his voice as Alenko helped Williams back onto her feet. His wrist blinked a yellow light. As the commander activated the button on his wrist, his omnitool projected a virtual map of their surroundings. His spot visual grid was marked as a blue diamond. Another blue marker blinked with some urgency on his map.

The ID marked the signal as coming from Saren.

"Williams!" barked Shepard. "What's a kilometer in that direction?" he pointed north-west.

"A river, some colonial habs…" she dropped her jaw and said, "a tram station connected to a space port further out."

"Sounds like our best bet commander", said Alenko.

"Agreed. Now we need to haul ass, Williams you got point, Alenko you take the middle and…Alenko?" The lieutenant was listening with half an ear. He stared at the de-cloaked bodies of their ambushers with wide eyes.

Shepard was about to snap him out of his trance before he too, saw them and stared. Sergeant Ashley Williams looked and summed up all of their feelings with a single phrase, "Sweet shit."

Saren dropped down from a tree to land behind a clueless batarian. Grabbing the witless alien with his left hand, he held him firmly in front of him as he dispatched his compatriots with muffled shots.

Three…four…five…as the last batarian dropped to his knees with the top half of its face removed, Saren let out a grunt as he twisted the head of his shield backward. Snapping bones greeted his effort as the batarian's head turned around completely, staring at him with a stupid expression.

Saren let the luckless alien drop to the ground. The remaining round in his pistol found its way into a cranium as the twitching alien almost gave away his position with a scream. Rather than reload a heatsink, he let his pistol cool off the old fashioned way.

A he glanced at the dead behind him he shook his head: usually they died instantly when he did that. This was the seventh batarian he did this too since the mission began. It was distressing that they refused to die as he intended, so much so that he made a mental note to practice more often.

Saren made his way down a hill to the tram station ahead of him. The batarians he eavesdropped on earlier had made it clear that the beacon was moved to the space port beyond. Thankful for the information, Saren killed them with a well placed grenade. Discretion was usually the better part of valor, but it was rare that he got it this easy.

The spectre's sharp eyes missed nothing ashe moved. Saren scanned ahead for targets and noted again the grim executions along his path. He had take pictures with his omnitool earlier, some were fresh yes but the further he went from the habs past the dig site, the more mutated they became in appearance.

Whatever the devices did, it change the bodies impaled on top to sexless versions of themselves. Anything that clothed them previously degraded in some way, only to reveal grey skin highlighted with the eerie blue of cybernetics. Through their arms and legs, to their temples and eyes the corpses glowed. Metal tubing snaked into their mouths from each of their collar bones, along their chests as well as stomachs.

As he made his way up the steps and onto the platform of the tram, he glanced at another pair at the top. Instinct spoke to him, telling him that the corpses were watching him move but he dismissed that theory. What had the living to fear of the dead?

Regardless, the Council would want to hear about it in his report. As a spectre it was his duty to leave nothing out of his mission statements.

Saren snorted contemptuously when the title passed his mind, with it came back the face of the insolent human he was to mentor. He could understand that the Council was throwing the humans a bone in the same way a Krogan would give a behaving varren; but an _ape_ walking tall amongst his number: the greatest agents in the galaxy?

Not if he could help it.

Just when thoughts began to form in his mind of the ways he could end the human's tenure before it began a noise was heard. The turian reacted swiftly, aiming his pistol at the source. He eyed the stacks of un-opened crates in front of him and glanced at the storage houses to his right. He swept his pistol across his vision and took a step backward towards the tram before he heard it again.

"Out" he ordered. "Obey and I might let you live"

Someone did come out: confidently and surely into the open. "Saren", he said with smile.

The batarian kept that grin even as the spectre kept his weapon aimed between his four eyes. His black skin pigmentation was at odds with the yellow stripes along his neck and head. His face was pale, as if all the color in his body was drained to coat his armor with its hue. Further distinguishing him from the herd was his right arm. Synthetic it was, meshed almost haphazardly into the socket of his arm: short tubes snaked into his shoulder and into his ribcage. The digits on that artificial hand was strangely limited to three, like a normal alien, compared to the organic arm on the batarians left, which sported a full five…

"Been awhile", the batarian said, his smile growing wider.

'Awhile' didn't come close to cutting it. It was _decades_ since he last saw this alien let alone in person. Saren scowled as a memory came bubbling to the top of his mind. He knew him well enough; it was hard to forget a smile that arrogant. Saren still recalled the day he was presented to the Council as one of the best that the dead Hegemony had to offer…

The spectre's mandibles twitched as he ground out the batarians name with disgust.

"Balak"


	8. April Fools!

"Surprised to see me?" asked Balak.

Saren's gun didn't waver for a moment, "Hardly" he answered

Balak kept that infuriating grin. "That's it? No _hello_ to an old friend?"

"That implies we liked each other", said Saren whom stealthily clicked the transmitter on his left wrist with a talon. "A falsehood. Now remove your pistol and toss it slow. After that, you can get on your hands and knees."

Balak walked off to his left slowly, keeping his front towards the spectre as the latter followed him with his pistol. The batarian stopped with the stairs to the platform at his back before he answered, "Do I look like your mother to you?"

Saren's mandibles flared.

"I was hoping for a civil conversation."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Your piece Balak."

Balak ignored the order and gestured with his normal arm, "Beautiful isn't it?"

That gesture encompassed the whole planet: a million fires choked the skies an inky black. The stench of chemical fires and the scent of roasted meat assailed Saren's nostrils. If he strained his ears hard enough, he could still hear the ghostly echoes of gunfire on the wind.

"This took a quad Balak", said Saren, his voice carried reluctant respect. "I will admit I'm amazed that you and your merry band of ingrates made it this far without dying. I take it that Black Ship of yours had something to do with it?"

"Naturally", said the grinning batarian.

As if on cue, the ship screeched once more. It was even worse in person than it was through the video, if such a thing were possible. The sound reverberated through Saren's mind like a jackhammer: stabbing ice into his brain and down along the nerves in his spine. It took every ounce of his will power to keep his aim steady through that siren call.

Balak remained unperturbed.

He brought a hand to a pointed ear and said, "A sweet melody isn't it? _That_ Saren is the tune I'll dance too on humanity's grave, after I piss on their ashes of course."

"Assuming you'd beat me to it."

Balak laughed harshly. "Good! That's real good. Now Saren I've come a long way to meet you."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be", Balak's voice turned low and dangerous, "I've done much and seen more. I've got new friends and I got a new toy to play with". He started walking to his left again as he spoke, "I know that you love the apes as much as I do, so I'll make you an offer: join me. I'll take the vengeance that my race is due on their pink hides, and I offer you a front row seat to the occasion."

Balak stopped and smiled, his needle like teeth gleamed, "Join me Saren! Together, we'll erase the stain that they're mongrel species has made on this galaxy!"

Saren tilted his head to the right before he responded with a flat, "No."

"_No_?" Balaks cheerful demeanor vanished. His voice rose to a furious pitch, "What do you _mean_ no?!"

"_No_, as in you must take me to be an even bigger idiot than the Hegemony was during the Relay 314 Conflict. You'd think I'd what? Betray my species? _Betray the Council?_ To help you and the rest of your four eyed fucks in a petty crusade? Balak you're under arrest for treason against the Council, subversive action against the Hierarchy, and multiple acts of terror across the galaxy." A pause and a shrug of the shoulders, "I suppose if were counting then the apes would go on the list too."

"That's _real_ generous of you bird shit", growled Balak. "You speak of treason like you know the word. The Council left the batarians to rot during the war and now my people live under the ape's boots; groveling on their knees like slaves as they eat the scraps from their tables. The Council will answer for such negligence!"

Balak teeth shined through his grin as he resumed his pacing, "Their day of reckoning is nigh! When that moment of glory comes I will watch the whole galaxy _tremble_ as the master race rises once more!"

"That'll happen the same day an ape becomes a spectre," said Saren deadpan.

Balak stopped and stared at the turian. He laughed, long and heartily, "So the birds do have a sense of humor!"

Saren actually smiled at Balak in turn. "You think I came to this burning shithole for the food? Why else would the Council send me here, if not to train a monkey to do your old job?"

Balak scowled, with four eyes black as pitch it looked menacingly, "You need to work on your punchlines bird boy."

"If you think I'm funny than your going to love him, I promise you that much" Saren said mockingly. "The more I think about it the more he reminds me of you, you know."

Balak's lower eyes remained fixed on Saren while the top half peaked past the spectre's shoulder. "Do tell", he said.

Saren saw that movement. He mentally prepared himself as he finished his gloating, "Shepard has the same smart fuc-"

"The Butcher?" interrupted Balak. All four of his eyes went wide, "You're telling me that the Butcher is _here_?

Before Saren could respond to that, Balak let out an incoherent scream of rage. His pale face turned a bright pink; a temple throbbed visibly as he roared, "KILL HIM NOW!"

Saren turned to face the assailants that would attack him from behind. From the beginning, the set up was so obvious that even an idiot would be able to see through the ambushes orchestration. As he brought his pistol to fire at the emerging hostiles, he felt shock paralyze his trigger finger.

He had a solid look at the aliens coming from the crates: none of them were batarian.

They were about human height, but their flesh was metal and their veins circuitry. Rounded necks rising from their torsos extended their heads forwards by a foot and a half; their "faces" ended in an un-winking light that clicked and whirred. That cyclopean visage belonged to one race and one race only.

The Geth.

Saren may have hesitated but Balak didn't. The batarian took the bulky pistol from behind his lower back and aimed it at the turian; its size and weight made Saren's weapon look like a pea shooter. The Executioner was painted a deep crimson; it's normal ammunition capable of putting holes through a light tank.

Balak thumbed the high explosive mod and fired.

The recoil was devastating, even with the enhanced strength of his artificial arm; his hand went vertical from the force of the shot. Whatever Saren Arterius's final thoughts were, they were interrupted by the bullet detonating in his neck. The top half of his body exploded in a fountain of gore, the blue-black blood of his species washed the area and splashed against the artificial creatures who merely clicked in their language: unfazed at the gory display.

The lower half of the specrte remained erect for a moment. Little wisps of smoke drifted from where his half charred gizzard touched the air. A gentle breeze caressed his torso, nudging it to the ground with a wet thud.

Balak walked over to the corpse and spat on its remains. He looked up to eye the watching synthetics and snarled at them, "Move out!"

Author Notes: An actual update! On the day of Foolery! Who'd thunk it huh?


	9. House Cleaning

The haze of purple light that surrounded Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko dissipated along with the head of the batarian he appeared next to: its skull erupting into a fine red mist that sprayed onto his armor and the flesh beneath his visor.

The other Free Hegemony diehards looked at him in comic amazement; as if they couldn't believe the human they were shooting at a moment earlier could phase through the wall of the hab they were hiding in.

Synthetic adrenaline surged through Alenko as he squeezed the trigger at the nearest Hig. Two blasts painted a wall with its intestines while another four blew his comrade to pieces. Instinctually, he spun on his heels to redirect the bayonet of a charging batarian with a glowing left hand. The smoking muzzle of his shotgun stabbed into its ugly visage before a flash of light tore half of it away.

The corpse had enough momentum left in it to make its way past him, giving enough space for him to place a biotically charged kick into its back. It flew across the room and smashed another batarian into a wall.

Gunfire started to rain on his biotic barrier; he extended a glowing hand to a hostile aiming behind a couch. Purplish light enveloped him, sending the hapless alien screaming upward through the roof of the building, before slamming back down to explode in a red heap.

Still maintaining his hold over the body, he threw the gory remnants into another enemy. Biotics flared as he charged again, passing through the rising aliens cover and ramming his head against a wall. He raised his shotgun to its groin and fired. Howls of pain echoed in the building as it fell to the floor, silenced swiftly by the armored knee which caved in its face.

Alenko was halfway through turning around before he felt something snag him and anchor him to a wall. Armored feet dangled off the floor, as grey black wiring tightened into the metal stakes that fastened him to the metal wall.

He had a moment to mutter a curse before the electrical current came alive.

The marine spasmed and convulsed like a fish as the energy arced through him. Eyes turned white as they rolled upwards and spit drooled from a twitching jaw. Subconsciously, he registered the black shapes in his peripheral vision before they started firing at him.

His shields kept the brunt of their attack from ventilating him, popping only at the end of their dual assault. The last few rounds from their weapons breeched through his armor and lodged themselves in his arm, a leg and the side of his abdomen. The hiss and pop that greeted a fresh thermal clip was audible as both batarians raised their arms to finish him.

That is, until the world outside came in through a window and bounced off of an alien shoulder. The batarian had a moment to recognize the shape of the object before the incendiary grenade detonated.

It had no time to scream, so quickly did the flames turn its flesh to cinder and boil its armor. The super heated fragments did pass through him and made his ally catch fire. The surviving Hig had enough wits about it to roll frantically away from the area of the house that was being consumed by flames.

Alenko gritted his teeth as painkillers flooded his system. With a snarl, he clicked his omni-blade to life and sliced through sparking wires to land on the floor. By the time he rose and made his way over to his would be killer, the Hig was standing on shaking feet. Half of its face looked burnt, while the chest piece on that same side was charred black.

The marine moved in with a feral growl, one hand gripping its collar while a glowing fist slammed into its side. To his satisfaction, he felt the alien's ribs crack under that blow, on reflex the batarian spat blood onto him. Lungs punctured, filling with blood, the marine followed through with a hook that removed his assailant's lower jaw.

Eyes aglow, he turned into the alien and gripped both hands onto its blackened arm. With a yell he threw with all the strength that the Teltin Procedures offered to a biotic. The dying batarian went over his shoulder and soared through a wall.

The corpse landed with a wet thud as it bounced across the ground: stopping only when it met the immovable form of a landtruck. Glass and metal bent inward, as the alien became indented into its frame. So much was the strength of the impact that the vehicle threatened to tip over, dislodging a few of its remaining crates onto the ground before falling back into place.

One of those metal crates landed next to the crouching form of Sergeant Ashley Williams and the crates she used as covered. It landed with a crash near her form, but it did nothing to dissuade the aim that she maintained through the scope of her assault rifle.

"Watch it!" she yelled.

A voice cut through the din of gunfire as she sighted a target in a window, "Sorry!" the lieutenant cried a moment before she let out a burst and ended her prey.

Williams popped the heat sink on her rifle to aim again. A few shots ricocheted off the tumble of crates she was using for cover before she responded with a long burst from her rifle. Bright red flames ate their way through another hab as one of grenades worked its magic: flushing out the batarians from their cover and killing them when they showed themselves.

Most panicked as her incendiary rounds set them on fire, making it easier for her to mow them down. As soon as her building she turned to another and yelled, "LT!"

Immediately, a biotic shockwave tore through the ground and gutted the house she was aiming at. Shooting the exposed defenders, the lieutenant charged again into an intact hab; greeted by a chorus of alien screams as he sweeped through another building. As a batarian was ignited in the recently shattered building, how their current predicament came to be passed through her mind.

In their haste to get to the beacon, Shepard had ordered them on a new path. A shortcut on the map looked promising enough to persuade the commander to diverge, claiming that it would shave off at least half an hour to their destination. Unknowingly, they had stumbled on a research station. It looked like a recent construction, if the unopened supplies and half-finished habs were any indication. Which explained why it didn't show on the map the commander was using. The other had reason had to do with how badly their radar was functioning since the geth showed up.

Otherwise, they wouldn't have stumbled upon the patrol.

The situation was almost comical: four eyes stared stupidly at two when the marines stumbled upon a group of marching Higs. The commander was the first to bring reality back with his assault rifle. Two batarians had their skulls ventilated a moment before Williams and Alenko joined him in killing the other three, but not before one of them screamed into its radio.

Things went to hell quickly after that.

What should have been discreet murder wounded being a dragged out firefight with the garrison the Higs left in the collection of buildings. Now they had to clear them all out lest they radio in for reinforcements…if they hadn't already.

A batarian flailed as a mass effect field dragged him through a window. The tinkle of glass gained the sergeants attention as she shot its floating form. As she ducked back to reload she shot a question at the lieutenant over the din, "Think he's alright?!" she yelled.

Alenko looked from his cover to the big building that dominated the immediate skyline: a monstrous five story structure that held a rotating antenna on its roof. Gunfire flashed at the marines outside, but more was illuminating the rooms of the building. He saw the familiar, ripple like quality of a mass effect field on the top most floors before metal and plastic blossomed outward. In the shower of artificial material, batarians flew like ragdolls before landing onto roofs and grass with sickening crunches.

Kaiden turned to look at Williams and caught her eye. Grinning he answered, "I think so!"

* * *

Shepard kept his biotics charged as he kicked in a door. The screaming aliens turned as one to fire at him only to hit the wall behind him.

The batarian he appeared behind had a moment to realize that the human they faced was a biotic before the commander spun on a heel with his omni-blade activated. Rather than the usual foot long instrument of death that soldiers favored, the commander had his tweaked: it was longer and curved away from him, a design similar to the scythes that primitive farmers used on earth.

His fist was placed beneath his targets right shoulder blade, the transparent weapon passing through a lung and grazing a heart before extruding from its left collar bone. He dragged its dying form close to him, angling its head away from him as he leveled the Harrier over its upper right arm.

At this range, accuracy wasn't an issue: warp rounds tore their way into the turning forms of batarians as his rifle clattered. Shepard arced his weapon horizontally, gunning down the half dozen or so that were in the room with him. Guns spattered at him in vain: needing to pass through both the kinetic barriers and armor of his shield before they touched his own.

One batarian turned to break for the door only to have bullets tear through his back and legs. Shepard's meat shield dropped as the holographic blade dissipated; ejecting a thermal clip, he locked the weapon to his back. He thumbed a grenade from his belt as he walked over to the scrambling batarian.

He noted it was making its way to winding staircase before he magnetically locked the explosive to the back its armor. Purple light shimmered onto the batarian as the commander brought it floating to its destination. Setting the timer for a quarter of a minute, he suspended the batarian over the curved railing before letting him drop with a scream to the lower floors.

Shepard placed another grenade in a discreet location near the top of the steps and set it to _motion_ at two movements. Eyeing the radar and seeing that it was still mal-functioning he merely shrugged his shoulders. Activating his biotic amp, he waited until he heard screams and a boom at the lower levels, followed by the sound of confused shouts and hungry snarls. The commander waited until three of them made their way up, the blacks of their eyes filled with a level of hate that only a generation of war could instill.

He walked casually back into the room, luring them closer before charging to the level below.

The explosion rocked the building as he reappeared in another room: more aliens and shouts of shock and outrage. It was just as well that he landed amongst their midst: when his biotic bubble exploded outwards around him along his outstretched arms, he actually blew out half the third story along with its contingent of batarians.

Shepard pushed off with his feet and turned to run to the half of the remaining floor that wasn't about to have the upper two levels collapse onto it.

* * *

A female batarian eyed the single shape moving directly over her position. Being a veteran, she knew that she was dealing with a biotic. Only those types of humans could kill that many of her own with such speed. Through the grinding of falling metal and the screams of dead men over her radio she barked an order.

The batarians with her obeyed: raising their weapons to their shoulders and firing into the ceiling above them.

* * *

Shepard's kinetic barriers came back alive the moment bullets started making their way through the floor under him. He did a little dance to avoid the bullets as they struck his barriers, a forward roll postponed the onslaught but for a few breaths only. Their intensity increasing as his attackers concentrated their fire.

The synthetic adrenalin his combat armor was feeding him slowed his world to a crawl: purple haze enveloped him once more as he activated omni-blades over both of his hands. In a heartbeat, he eyed the radar: in a moment of lucidity it showed his enemies. Picking a target he phased through the flooring once more.

The batarian he crashed into found the commanders fists indenting his armor inward as he lay on his back; both the foot long holographic blades were through his chest and through the floor. Before the female next to him could so much as glance at him, the blade of his left hand shifted into the scythe like head he was long familiar with. It went through her hip and femur like a knife through butter.

A biotic push extended the leap he made over her to the nearest batarian. His left hand was shifting again even as the blade on his right went through his enemy's teeth and sliced upwards through his eyes. As brain matter spilled onto him, he pointed his left arm at a snarling Hig, the omni-tool changing to the familiar form of a series of knives along the forearm.

The ballistic blades sprang, stabbing deeply into his target before exploding. Shepard hooked his arm under the split faced alien before throwing him over his shoulder at another. The biotically powered move sent both crashing through a wall with ruptured skulls.

Shepard glanced at his radar and noted sporadic movement. Most of it was focused outside, and with a glance through the lieutenants own cam it looked like they were mopping up. Shepard was about to join them before a noise drew his attention. He looked around and saw its source.

The female batarian.

She was groaning on the floor and looked to be in shock. If the pool of blood she was lying in was any indication she'd be dead in another two or three minutes. Whatever pain killers that her suit flooded her with, it wasn't enough to stop her moans of pain nor from biting through her own tounge.

Shepard walked on over to her and gave her kick in her side. She swore loudly and incoherently, her pitch rising as he brought a boot on a forearm. Ignoring her vitriol, the commander ground the bones under his heels before a symbol on her collar caught his eye.

The Hig tried to claw out his eyes with her working hand as he leaned over. Her growls were cut down to wheezes as he set his weight on her neck with a knee. She beat weakly against his leg as Shepard knelt down to peer closer at the shape.

He burst out laughing.

"A slave handler?!" he asked her through his laughter.

"You're a fucking slave handler?!" he smiled an easy smile, as he brought his knee off of her and grabbed her neck with his left hand. He tucked that same arm across her neck, under her free arm and hooked his fingers to the tubing at the back of her helmet.

Her body was propped up on his knee as he continued to speak through his mirth, "Oh stay with me now gorgeous!" he said to her. "If you're willing to beat baby apes for crying," the Commander brought the scythe like omni-blade to life in his right hand, "and put control nodes in their brains without anesthetic," he raised it high in the air.

"Then there's no reason you shouldn't be awake to _feel_ this."

He plunged the long weapon into the right side of her chest. What began as a muffled shout turned into a liquid gurgle as the commander dragged it slowly across her body: beginning at her collar bone and ending past her naval.

"Area secure sir," spoke Williams through her comm.

Shepard didn't respond, the Higs, organs and blood started to spill out from the rent in her body, "So _that's_ what you're made of" said he, before rolling her twitching carcass off to land onto the floor.

"I am _not_ impressed."

"Sir?" asked Williams.

"Coming out," said Shepard. Finding a window he hurled himself out of it. A shimmering violet outline surrounded him, landing gently onto firm grass.

Another flash of biotics brought himself next to the sergeant, "You hurt?"

"Negative sir,"

The commander eyed the devastation, the bodies, the burned out habs…

"Good work."

"Thank you sir."

"Now we need to get moving, if that smoke ain't enough to get unfriendly attention than I don't know what does. Alenko? Status?" asked Shepard.

Silence greeted him; he turned to regard their surroundings. He brought out his assault rifle and scanned his environment, "Kaiden?"

The lieutenant responded after another pause, "Fucking animals"

"Talk to me LT."

"Found the previous residents."

"Status?" he asked.

A pause and an audible sniff, "Chopped. Found two doctors though, Manuel and Warren. Looks like they were interrogated, Manuel's meat but Warren's…" Alenko's voice trailed off, he seemed reluctant to finish the sentence.

He didn't need too.

"Alive?" Shepard asked at last.

"Unfortunately"

"Salvageable?"

"…No sir"

Shepard nodded and spoke, "Make it quick LT."

The commander blink clicked the map in his visor and set about on a new course. They couldn't run the risk of reinforcements coming down on them, so when he started to run he angled himself to the woodlands nearby. It'd skirt them around a bit, but wouldn't throw them too far off from their objective. Williams fell into place a step behind him. They were halfway to the woods before Shepard heard the snap of a gunshot. Craning his neck, he saw Alenko come out the door of a broken hab. Grim faced, the marine charged himself with biotics to close the distance to the duo.

As nature cloaked the three of them, the tangible quietude was broken by Williams.

"I still don't get why the geth are here."

"What's there to _get_ sergeant?" Alenko, asked tensely.

"They've never set foot outside the Veil in centuries. Why would they come hereto Eden Prime? What'd weever do to them?"

"They're aliens!" snapped Alenko. "Since when did the alien ever _need_ an excuse to fuck humanity in the ass?!"

"Enough!" interrupted Shepard, "We'll sort that shit out later!"

The trio ran in silence: dancing around trees, jumping over logs and maneuvering around some of the more dense clusters of vegetation. Shepard blink clicked the map in his helmet; the distance between them and their destination was shortening, but not quickly enough. _Faster damn it_, he thought and doubled his pace.

As the shafts of light widened and nature's influence lessened, he could hear the blood pound in his ears as the ground gave away to a drop onto a dirt path. At least he thought it was his blood until the volume increased in tempo. He threw himself flat onto the ground and the other two marines followed his lead.

He felt a rumbling through the air that shook the teeth in his head. Glancing upward at the noise, he eyed through the openings of the tree leaves and their quaking branches to see three long insectoid looking craft moving above him.

They were flying low, hovering less than a hundred meters above the tree tops. Shepard's instinct told him they were dropships, and considering what he knew what the Higs favored the pilots of the queer craft were obvious. He continued eyeing their loose formation as the three were little more than specks in his sight.

"That can't be good", said Williams.

"You see where they were headed?" asked Alenko.

Shepard put his fingers to the comm. in his helmet, and listened to static. He changed frequencies and all gave him a similar answer. "I can't raise Jenkins."

He got up and jumped down onto the dirt road. Williams and Alenko followed shortly behind him. Shepard glanced out of the corner of his eye the spiked bodies that were set along their path.

"Commander…" Williams began.

"I saw them sergeant."

The corpses were suspended at odd intervals, the grim parodies of their humanity Shepard stole with a glance: naked grey-blue flesh, the hint of infused metal and a sense of foreboding as he passed them...

So much was he thinking on those feelings did he fail to notice that his companions stopped and stared as they crested the hill to their destination. The station was _right there_: a small field of cargo crates stacked between four massive warehouses and nothing but a handful of spiked corpses near the steps leading onto the platform. He was turning to snap them out of their gaze until his eyes fell upon what they were gaping at.

The Black Ship.

It was some kilometers off, but that did nothing to diminish neither its size nor its menace. Red lightning crackled along it's squid like carapace and tentacles that were as black as the starry void. Standing like a malefic god, it dominated the horizon for miles: the hellish red of the sky and the black stains that punctuated it from the fires from below contributed to the impression.

Than the god screamed.

The roar strangled the Commander's soul and stabbed hot nails into his brain. Ice seemed to form in his intestines as he felt electricity shoot through the endings of his nerves. As the molten agony knifed its way through his being, he ground his teeth look back at it.

To his relief, it looked to be lifting off. With a push from its tentacles, it vomited a trail of inky smoke as it gained altitude. The pain ebbed as it shrunk to a dot, exiting the world's atmosphere to be swallowed by the silent void beyond.

He turned back to his marines.

"You guys alright?" he asked as he hooked a hand under Alenko's arm.

Williams had a palm to her skull as she shook her head. As Shepard brought the lieutenant back to unsteady feet, she said "That…that was…" she looked to be sweating visibly on her forehead, which was difficult considering the climate control on her armor. "Tell me I just imagined that," she finished.

Alenko shook his own head and spat into the dirt, "I _wish_ you did Sergeant."

"Functional?" Shepard asked them both.

Both marines nodded.

Shepard nodded back and spoke, "Alright, Saren's signal cut off around here, so keep your ears open and stay sharp. Williams, if you see an angry bird in grey than that's our guy. Now let's go!"

Shepard resumed his run down the hill as his squad followed behind.

* * *

Author Notes: That one was for you Talitha

On another note, here's a formula for those readers who are mathematically inclined…

113 years of mandated close combat training + extra emphasis on killing your opponent (X) a generation of species hatred + Teltin procedures (which boost biotic potential by a factor of three-four times the norm)+ configurable omni-tool weaponry=RAPE

Who said math can't be fun?!


	10. Sticky Fingers

Shepard found himself facing the silent scrutiny of two sentries flanking the entrance to the platform. Like the others they were grey and sexless, metal tubes snaking into their mouths from their collarbones. Spiked through their midsections and looking bloated with alien hardware, they started at him and the bleeding world with unseeing eyes.

Queerly, he felt those same eyes upon him and his fellow marines as he bounded the steps onto the station. Williams leaped the stairs two at a time, assault rifle cradled and searching for targets. Alenko glowed faintly with a blue shimmer as he searched for any enemy sneaking on their rear. Heart pumping, trigger fingers twitching, they cleared the last steps and saw...

Nothing.

Save for them, nothing else stirred.

Shepard arced his rifle in a slow sweep of their surroundings, as he treaded further onto the platform Williams followed his lead. A warehouse dominated their immediate line of sight; three more like it placed on the other side of the station, separated by an ocean of crates and little islands of loading equipment. To the furthest left was the tram itself, in dock and looking as abandoned as the rest of the station.

Both searched for movement and found none. Shepard, slid an eye to the virtual display in his helmet and swore quietly: it still glitched in and out of focus. The radar was just as unhelpful, not even being able to read the FOF tags of his allies' right next to him.

Rather than risk speaking to those allies (and alerting anyone who may be hiding unseen in the plethora of cover available) he instead raised an arm from his rifle and made a series of signals with his hand. _Alenko scout left_, the others read to themselves, _Williams with me._

Alenko nodded a glowing head behind his commander's back and branched out in the direction of the tram. He walked at an angle, keeping his weapon to bear on the crates in case anyone popped out to ambush him. The sergeant followed the commander as he approached the doors to the closest warehouse. Its design was simple as the doors were large: squat, grey and resembling much like a bunker. Like most colonies it was designed with duration in mind rather than appeal.

As she followed, Williams ran the situation over in her mind. Obviously the beacon was a priority, but this turian-Saren-was important enough to warrant a detour. But with their comm's shit and getting shittier by the minute, they had to do this the hard way.

She could see the logic in the commander's decision to split up too; a well trained and disciplined brain boy like the LT could hold their own against a platoon of regular infantry. Double that for an N7 like the commander, but leaving a regular-and what struck him as a wounded regular-to her own devices seemed like asking for trouble.

So here she was covering the entrance to the warehouse as Shepard put a shoulder to the side of a door. A glance told them both that it was unbarred and open. Shepard turned to look at Williams, and the marine nodded back.

_Ready_.

Feeling that same eerie calm settle over her, the one that preceded a battle, she took a breath and aimed. Shepard reached out a hand to push inwards as a violet shimmer grew in intensity around him. If any four eyed bastard waited beyond those doors Williams intended to give them the shortest surprise of their lif…

"Commander"

The voice cut into her thoughts but not her focus. The radio in Shepard's helmet crackled and popped with feedback as he raised a hand to answer. "What?" he whispered.

"Found him."

Shepard's features remained unchanged, "Where?"

Williams saw the commander wait a moment before frowning. Even from her position she could hear the whine and pop of a garbled response. Shepard swallowed his displeasure and moved off the door, making another signal to her. Wordlessly, he covered her as she placed a pair of incendiary grenades on the metal and mag-locked them near the door. She timed the explosives for _two movements_ before she turned to follow the commander back to Alenko's position.

Shepard took cover behind an exposed crate and aimed around it. Satisfied, he vaulted over it and walked into the open. Williams saw Alenko in a relaxed stance, eying them both casually as they jogged on over to him.

"Where-" began the commander before Alenko took a step to his side. With an armored glove he pointed at the mess behind him and said, "here, and there…and there, and over there…and I think you stepped on a piece of him over there too."

Williams lifted a boot to see she her toes had brushed against what looked like a finger. It was too small for here to be sure though. What she _was _sure of though, was that someone used the top half of the turian to paint the area blue. The only remaining indicator that set him apart from a human or a batarian was his feet: two long, and grey armored talons where the toes would be.

Not much else to go on after that.

Shepard knelt and started scanning the body with his omnitool. Williams found a question to ask, "Blackwatch sir?"

"Roast bird more like" she heard the LT grumble to himself. The commander was more audible in his answer, "A Spectre…"

"And an asshole" added Alenko

"…And an asshole", amended Shepard with a nod, "But he was also one of the Council's best operatives. How'd they turn his ass to paste?"

"You only need to fuck up once," said Alenko, as Williams turned her backs to them and eyed the crates once more.

"He probably found the beacon here," said Shepard, as he rose to his feet. "Got caught and killed, but if so…where the hell is everyone?"

"If they aren't dead than there gone," said Alenko. "If they aren't the second, then there they're going to be the first pretty damn quick. Alliance is gonna drop the hammer on this place when reinforcements show up." Alenko gestured with his weapon towards the sergeant, "She _did _mention a spaceport earlier, seems the likeliest place to be..."

"…If they hadn't already fucked off planet with the beacon. Here's hoping the Geth are keeping them preoccupied." finished Shepard.

"They could be working together."

They both turned to the sergeant, who continued speaking over a shoulder, "That Black Ship isn't like anything we have on file, and the Geth aren't bound to the Citadel Conventions…"

Shepard felt his intestines churn at the prospect of the Free Hegemony and the Geth teaming up against the Alliance. In a twisted way, it answered a lot of the _how's_ of the attack, but it brought with it an army of _why's_. A scowl crossed his features as he banished those thoughts from his mind. Cold certainty filled his voice as he spoke, "Meat or metal it doesn't matter, they'll die all the same. Lieutenant! See if the trams functioning, the sergeant and I'll..."

"Hey! Are you guy's-?"

Williams turned at the question coming from the crates to her left, and fired a long burst from her rifle. Bullets clanged off of metal in bright red sparks, the sound of terror was audible even above the sickly sweet song of gunfire.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK"

"Cease fire!" Shepard roared.

Williams obeyed.

All three marines kept their weapons poised on the spot of her wrath. Biotics flared in angry hues from the commander as he ordered, "Out. NOW. Or I'll toss a frag in to keep you company."

The man rose slowly out of cover. A workman's beanie, tattered with age, was the first thing to come into view, than two brown hands with paler palms inched their way up on the sides. A pair of eyes peered underneath that hat at the marines, than another pair followed; inch by inch the man's eight nostrils came into play and a mouth quivering with needle like teeth.

The marines got a better look at the batarian as they closed the distance to him. His outfit was typical of a dockworker, filthy and stained with sweat. Fear reeked off of the man in waves…and something else too.

Between Williams sniffing and Alenko's look of disgust, the commander could guess that _something_ was a recent addition. It was hard to miss the dark streak that expanded over his crotch and reached to the insides of his knees.

Evidently, courage was in short supply for this one.

"Name," the commander demanded.

With a squeak the batarian answered, "Jo'klo Quayd."

"Anymore with you Quayd?"

"Uhm…no." The batarian turned around and rubbed his hands together nervously, "I think I'm the only one left."

Shepard craned his neck and nodded to both of his squad mates to stand easy.

"Dead?" Shepard asked.

"I think so…"

"What do you mean _think_?" asked Alenko.

"I heard screams and gunshots at the start, but nothing more than that. I was out hiding…behind the crates before they rolled in. I've stayed there so they wouldn't find me. Then I saw you guys show up."

"Really?" Shepard asked. The batarian nodded. Shepard pointed a finger at Saren's torso, "You see what happened to him?"

"Yeah, that other Batarian got him."

"_What _Batarian?"

"The one that ordered the…creatures around, Balak I think his name was."

Shepard's eyes narrowed on the lower pair of the batarian's own. "Tell me everything you know. Now."

* * *

"…And he freaked out when he said the Butcher was here. Your buddy turned around to see those things behind him, and then Balak killed him."

"How?" asked Alenko

"With a pistol," said the batarian, as if it was obvious.

Alenko tilted his head to the right and stared at the batarian. The batarian noted the gesture and had a hurt look on his face, "It was a _big_ pistol."

"Uh huh"

"You said you saw them move the beacon?" asked Shepard.

"It's kind of hard to miss; they moved it out about twenty minutes before you guys showed up."

"Commander," spoke Williams. Shepard looked at her and she said, "We can't leave him here."

"Were gonna have too Williams."

"He can testify to the Alliance and Council about what he saw here. If this Balak could rally the Geth to him, than odds are he wasn't joking about taking this thing to the Council. The galaxies in for a war, and this batarian can prove that."

Shepard answered before Alenko could, "Were going into a fight Williams, or we'll start one when we get to the beacon further down. We can't risk him dying before he talks. He'll hide here and we'll come back for him."

"Yeah!" said Quayd, he pointed with a thumb to the area behind him, "They couldn't find me all day, they shouldn't be able to now."

"A good plan, except there's one thing that's been bothering me…"

"Were moving lieutenant."

"…He said he was hiding _before_ the attack happened sir. Isn't that a little suspicious?"

"It _is_ a valid observation," Williams added.

Shepard turned to face the dockworker once more. "Well?"

Quayd licked his lips and darted his eyes over all three of them before replying, "Sometimes…sometimes when the supervisor isn't looking I…sneak off to where he can't find me and catch forty winks. It helps me get through shift."

All three humans stared at the batarian for an uncomfortable moment. Six eyes judged four in a heartbeat as Alenko delivered their silent verdict, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Lieutenant-" began Shepard.

"Were out here dying for you asshole!" cried Alenko. His biotics flared brighter as his voice rose in pitch, "Were risking our asses to save you, and every other four eyed fuck on this planet and you get to live because you were FUCKING LAZY?"

"Kaiden." the commander said.

Shepard's voice was soft and placating but his eyes were anything but. The lieutenant's glowing gaze needed to meet his superiors own for a moment and only for a moment. Power dimmed as the amp in Alenko's brian shut off, damming the power in his veins and donning an appearance of normalcy once more.

When he turned back to the dockworker, the batarian flinched under his un-winking sight. Fright rooted him in place as the lieutenant ground out, "You're _lucky_ the commander finds you useful."

"A lot of us are dying today Quayd," said Williams in a more soothing voice. "You need to make up for it."

"Woul…would it help if I gave you this?"

Shepard watched with a perverse fascination as the sergeant twisted the guilt knife further; getting the batarian to conjure a weapon from a back pocket. "It's a prototype," Quayd said, as if he was pitching a sell, "state of the art, highly experimental and right off the line." Williams reached for it and admired the red coloration for a moment before offering it to the commander.

"Anything else?" asked Williams with a raised brow.

Quayd reached into his pockets and pulled out a couple of grenades and dropped them into the sergeant's outstretched hand. Shepard shook his head at Williams offer, letting her pocket her gains for herself. As she mag locked the pistol to her hip the commander asked, "How does a dockworker get his hands on this kind of hardware?"

"The other workers…had a smuggling ring going on; they'd nab shit all the time from cargo before it was shipped out. I grabbed some when the attack started."

Kaiden spoke with absolute loathing in his voice, "Not just a lazy sonovabitch, but a _crooked_ sonovabitch."

"I don't have a choice!" Quayd wailed, his expression half fear, half exasperation. "What am I supposed to do? Snitch? _On the mob_? I'd be lucky to get away with a rope necktie! If I wasn't they'd tell the cops I was spying for the Fucking Higs! I got kids to feed man!"

_A lynching on one hand, a labor camp on the other_ thought Shepard. Alenko acknowledged that tirade with a wordless grunt, the closest he'd come to offering sympathy to the man. Shepard pointed a finger at the batarian and spoke in a tone that brook little argument.

"Alright, Quayd find a hole and stay low. Marines! We are leaving!"

Before Shepard could take a step towards the tram, a metallic grinding noise cut in to the air around them. _Oh for fuck's sake_ he thought to himself with no small amount of irritation, _what is it _this_ time?_

As one, the marines turned, bringing their weapons to bear on…the spikes? They were at the base of the stairs and out of sight; but the tips were visible above the steps. They were retreating back into their devices; the dangling corpses being lowered back onto the earth. Shepard's aim did not waver, but rather he waited a moment, than another…soon enough he found his caution vindicated.

Up the steps both of them came, shambling and groaning. Shepard didn't bother to let either of them reach the top unmolested. He waited until their top half's were in his line of sight.

"Open fire" he ordered.

Assault rifles screamed in unison at the two parodies of men. Bullets stitched into unfeeling hides as both creatures raced onto the platform and charged them. Shepard saw their screaming forms fall apart under the hail of gunfire, and yet they remained undeterred. Their self preservation absent, their only remaining drive looked to be rending them apart limb from limb.

The first went down after a burst tore through his outstretched hands and into his chest, moving upwards to vaporize his throat and vacate his skull. The second lost control over his legs as gunfire stripped away an armored spine. It kept crawling towards them with its remaining arm; merely hissing in annoyance as the incendiary ammunition cooked its flesh and warped its metal bones. Shepard fired a round into its face to end its second life permanently.

"Well that's not good" said Williams. "Neither is _that_." Shepard followed her pointing finger and zoomed in with his visor at the route to the station. More of the spiked trees that hugged the road were coming down, and more of their mutated fruit began to stir. Slowly they rolled off of their backs and onto their feet; their quiet moans slid into the breeze and graced the commander's ears.

"Oh SHIT," said Quayd. "They're alive?!"

"Apparently so," answered Shepard.

"What if the other one's wake up too?"

"They already-"Shepard turned to finish that sentence but Quayd wasn't listening nor even glancing at the path they took to get here. All four of his eyes remained fixated on the warehouse near the entrance to the station. Shepard gestured with his rifle towards the building, "More in there?"

Quayd merely nodded.

"How many?"

"I don't know…they were bringing them in their all day" said Quayd.

"How many people lived here Quayd?"

"What?"

"How many people lived in this fucking area?"

"I don't know," the batarian repeated stupidly, just when Shepard felt like slapping some sense into him he got an answer "two, maybe three hundred?"

Shepard looked at the warehouse, then back to Quayd, then to the ocean of material behind him.

Was that a shadow behind that lifter, or did he really see movement?

"Commander?" asked Alenko.

Shepard popped the heat sink on his weapon, before replying.

"Tram. Now."


	11. Braaainss!

Noxious fumes that could only belong to liquefying metal suffused the air with a bang. The entrance to the warehouse vaporized in a flash of light as flames engulfed the front half of the building. Inhuman screeches arose from the walking torches that shambled out of the inferno, falling over one another into piles of burnt material as they reached cool air.

Yet, like their earlier counterparts, the screeching creatures were unfazed by the flames and the sight of their fellows burning by the score. For every one that died in that blaze, two more came bursting from fire and smoke, running over the mounds of their fallen, and reaching with fingers turned talons to mortal souls.

The gates of hell had opened, and their denizens were spilling forth in their droves at the prospect of a second life. Shepard and his fellow marines did their part to ensure that it was a brief one. Rifles punted and clattered against shoulders, as specialized munitions ripped open fist sized holes in grey bodies. Gun barrels smoked red as heat sinks were popped; cooled in an instant and rising again to scalding temperatures as the trio poured everything they were worth into the hungry hoard.

"Kaiden!" Shepard roared over the din.

Alenko cursed as he dropped two creatures with a burst and took out another three with a biotic throw. He turned to the batarian, which was quivering behind the cover of his crate and yanked him out with a biotic field. Quayd landed face first onto the metal platform only to have an armored glove yank him by the collar onto his feet. Kaiden forced him forward and put a boot into his scrambling backside, "Move you shiftless bat!"

Shepard and Williams moved back in increments. They were methodical in their shots, firing in bursts to conserve ammo, but even with the occasional grenade tossed by Williams, or a shockwave of biotic power orchestrated by Shepard, it wasn't enough. It wasn't close to enough. It was like trying to hold back a tide of synthetic meat that pushed closer and closer with every breath.

"Cryo!" screeched Shepard.

Both marines thumbed the mods for their weapons and fired again. Bright white rounds were emitted by their rifles every dozen shots, but all of their bullets had the same satisfying effect. With each impact, the flesh and wiring of the creatures would snap freeze in a miniature cryo field. Normally that would slow down an armored target, but for these defenseless mutants, it stiffened their bodies and made them brittle. The ones that were foremost in the encroaching mass would slow, and stall those behind before falling over. When they landed it sounded like glass breaking, their bodies crushed into a hundred skidding pieces as their counterparts tried to run over them.

From the corner of his eye Shepard saw movement and pivoted his torso. His fist was raised glowing and moved in a horizontal throw. The mass effect field shattered crates and turned over a lifter, sending more of the creatures flying, but giving just as many an unimpeded path on their flank.

And there were more arriving each minute: metal screeched as the warehouses on the other end had their doors knocked aside in a rush, or had their sides tore open in a frenzy of sharpened claws and sprawling forms. Shepard grit his teeth and reloaded, firing at one that tried to leap at him. It jerked mid-air, its momentum uninterrupted and crashing into the commander even as he activated his omni-tool. The scythe like appendage came into being on his left hand as he shrugged off the body and darted forward. Bringing it downward it phased into the collar bone of another and whatever passed for the creature's respiratory system. He tore its chest open as he freed his instrument, bringing the weapon in a sweep that decapitated another.

"Fall back!"

Williams swore, whether it was at the order, at the stubbornness of their attackers, or at the overheated weapon in her hands Shepard wasn't certain. Thermal clips spent, she threw the defunct weapon at a moaning monster and made it stumble. She pulled out her new pistol and fired at it, the recoil more than she expected as well as its result. The shot had put a hole the size of her head in the things ribcage. She brought out her other pistol and took potshots at the creatures climbing over the sides of the platform from the direction of the road. She covered the commander as she inched back, putting down the hostiles that were circling around him, or were trying to tackle them from the right.

One down…two down…three…four…five…

"Ashley!"

She turned and ran.

Shepard gave her a few heart beats to establish some distance between him and the rest of the horde before a violet aura engulfed him. The biotic amp in his brain kicked into overdrive as he charged himself for all that he was worth. Purple light shimmered in his eyes as his limbs left faded afterimages of their movements. With a roar he threw out an open palm, willing every ounce of the power his augmented nervous system allowed into a single point.

What came out was a black dot, a sphere the size of a baseball and blacker than a slavers heart. It floated precariously in the air, a dozen meters away from Shepard as he dropped to a knee. His brain was on fire and his body was tingling with the pain of a thousand needles jabbing into every inch of his muscles. One creature ran up to him from his right, close enough to graze a claw at his visor. The hardened glass scratched at its touch a moment before it was sucked away from him feet first.

The sphere had expanded. It grew in size and violently tugged at everything around it: crates light with merchandise flew over his head; charred debris from the warehouse was caught in the orbs grip as well as the flailing forms of his attackers. Some of the heavier crates and loading equipment began to skid along the platform, inches at first, but audibly the grind was getting louder. They were slowly being drawn to the growing mass of material and bodies, when they did, they would crush smash anything smaller than they were.

Shepard bit his tongue as he crawled, everything hurt, but he made himself move before the orb could snag him as well. When he got to his feet, he half stumbled-half jogged-to his squad and his ticket out. There was no grace to his movements; he rolled over the railing to stairs that lead downwards to the docked tram. Rather than get up he tumbled through the remaining steps.

His second attempt to rise was impeded as a purple glow surrounded him, and yanked him forward off his feet. Alenko made his CO fly with a shimmering glove onto the transport. As soon as he was on he yelled, "Now!"

Williams punched the start sequence for the tram. It moved slowly at first, but with the weightier sections cut off by the pair of them earlier, it soon gained sufficient momentum. Rapidly, the station began to get away from them, along with the synthetic abominations that managed to escape from the spheres hold and roam near the railing.

Even at this distance, Sergeant Ashley Williams could make out the ballooning sphere beneath the chaotic material that swirled around it. She couldn't gauge its size but Alenko could: his visor recorded it at a monstrous 15 meters in diameter, its area of influence a little over twice that.

The commander's singularity uprooted the closest warehouse and most of the platform before it detonated.

It rumbled with thunder before it went out, everything that was within its grasp appeared to blossom outward a second before being swallowed inwards. Faster than a man could blink, all that the artificial black hole had a hold over condensed into a single point and vanished promptly.

All that remained was the gentle shaking of the tram and the labored breathing of the four souls on board. Alenko attention was snapped back to Williams and her cry of "Commander!" He rushed over as she propped him up against a jangling crate. Shepard's limbs were stiff and unmoving, his teeth showed white in his brown face as the muscles locked into an unfeeling grin. Green eyes rolled white as they tried to peer into the back of his skull and his twitching brain.

"Sir," Williams asked as she fumbled for her belt, "What do I-,"

"I got it," said Alenko as he reached for a pouch on his belt and pulled out a slim grey cylinder.

"Fucking fantastic," said Quayd, as he stared in the direction of the station they left. "First the Higs, than robots and now zombies, I knew I should have called in sick on a Monday."

"Shut up," said Alenko.

"Is he alright?" asked Williams.

Alenko didn't respond, but rather tilted the commander's head and jabbed the cylinder into a slight opening along his neck piece. The hypodermic needle pierced the skin underneath and drained itself into his bloodstream. "Baby's First Cocktail," said Alenko as if he anticipated a question from either of them. He studied the commander's features as he narrated, "Synthetic formula: muscle relaxants, neural stimulants, some fancy version of morphine and a bunch other crap."

"He's still shaking," said Williams.

"Means he burned out some nerves, happens when a biotic pushes too hard."

"Sweet shit," said Quayd.

"Time?" the word came out in a croak through clenched teeth. Alenko looked at Williams and she answered, "Were traveling light, so I'd say about ten minutes to port sir."

"Another," the commander ground out. Kaiden looked at his superior, worry warred with concern as he pulled out another cylinder and jabbed it into the commander's neck. "It ok to take more than one?" asked Williams.

"Not even remotely."

"Up," the commander ordered.

They helped him to his feet. He took a long breath, his eyes were over the batarian's shoulder and focused into the distance beyond, "Almost there…" he whispered.

* * *

Balak cleared the last stair and walked the upper levels of the ruined spaceport. As he moved, two eyes slid to the level below him. Most of the batarian teams had pulled out earlier, but there were still a handful of them scurrying about on planet and along the tramline beneath him. Volunteers all, each was determined to see themselves martyred so that the last phase of the attack would go off without a hitch.

He felt pride stir underneath his breast at that thought, a touch of sadness yes, but mostly pride. Having negative feelings was in itself expected: no matter how he rationalized it, it was hard to part with those that had served him faithfully after all these years. Balak closed all four of his eyes and yelled, _"Blood for Khar'shan!"_

His teeth gleamed needle like as the cry was carried by his men below and echoed across the walls around him. When he opened two of eyes he saw a pair of mechanical figures standing by. Both of the geth's photoreceptors clicked and whirred as he approached them, but otherwise they remained as still as statues. Like most variants they were stark white and around Batarian height, armored in a thick but flexible shell without, and bundles of synthetic fibers within. Balak rotated the shoulder of his artificial arm as he neared them. Those bundles functioned in a similar vein as muscles and were more efficient than the lopsided, cybernetic versions that the monkeys pioneered.

The Geth waited unmoving, and they would wait until he ordered them otherwise. Reveling in his authority he gestured his head at the large and long grey device that lay a few meters from him. "Prep the nukes," he said casually, "All of them. I want this fucking planet torched."

As one they both turned and knelt near the device, keying in commands on its pad to initiate the start up sequence. Balak grinned at their backs and to himself as he resumed his walk. A soldier that knew no fear, an asset that would only obey, a tool that would live to serve and never cease serving…

He laughed an honest man's laugh. At last, aliens that knew their place in the scheme of things! For the first time in a long time, he felt his spirits soar .Victory was within reach, all he had to do was reach out and grasp it. No more would he have to live with the disgust of having his own live at the beck and call of those hairless bastards. No more, would he have to resort to reaving and slaving those animal's colonies a handful at a time. No more would he have to slink about in the Terminus like a whipped cur after beating them in the balls.

Balak's grin got even wider. Every deed he had done would be vindicated; every one of his own that had died for the cause would not have done so in vain. History would remember him and all like him as the Great Liberators of the Batarian people, and after that much needed salvation was provided for them, after those apes were _finally_ ground under the heels of their betters, he would see to it that every two eyed fuck that stood silent in their hour of need wail on their hands and…

"Sir?" a voice spoke into his head.

Balak pressed a finger against a pointed ear, "What is it?"

"We have to leave sir. Drones have picked up activity at the Relay the monkeys are coming in full swing."

"In a minute"

"But sir…"

"In a minute Charn," said Balak as he walked, "Once last piece of business to clear up, have the fleet stall them."

"There's not much left sir," persisted Charn

"Is the dreadnought functional?"

A pause and then a reply, "Wounded at 43% but she's stable. Can't run, but with the modifications we made prior she can limp."

"As long as it shoots Charn"

"Yes sir."

Balak walked further and made a left unto a large clearing of white metal and scattered goods. He had ordered a number of Geth units to round up the survivors from the initial landing. They were honest in their tales of what was useful and what wasn't in terms of goods and for that the batarian was grateful. On the other hand, if he hadn't stumbled upon the whimpering dockworkers earlier he wouldn't have hesitated to send the Geth to work instead.

Slave work, after all, was for aliens, appeasers and disgraced bloodlines.

A glance to his left told him the dockworkers were right where he left them: near the railing, overlooking the countryside beyond, and spiked through their midsections. When they rose again they would serve him of course, but they wouldn't _truly_ appreciate the changes he made to the landscape.

And what a sight it was.

Rather than a plantation stretching into the setting sun, most of the surrounding area was glowing a dull orange. Vapors of heat would occasionally escape from the field of polished reflections before being snatched away by the breeze. The sight filled him with smug satisfaction, proof that even after all these years the apes could be cracked open with the right tool.

They were a paranoid lot by default; even the poorest of their cities were fortified out to the teeth. Armored brigades would bleed if they couldn't be repelled from the ground; the same could be said for conventional fighter craft. If an ape was unarmed than it was because it was too young to hold a rifle, and most apes preferred their rifles.

_They're worst than the Turians._ Balak spat as he thought of the Council's muscle and sneered at the thought of either of them. The only difference between the Hierarchy and Humanity was that latter was willing to pay out the ass to set up their most important colonies with kinetic barriers. A policy that would bankrupt most worlds, but it pretty much guaranteed their safety from an orbital standpoint.

But against lasers?

Balak sniggered at that. Shields couldn't do shit to stop radiation from energy weapons, and his geth came prepared. Too costly for the Council to even think about investing in their ships, but when did a machine ever value money? Killing the humans with a weapon that they themselves dominated the field in, more so than any other alien, only added to the sweetness of the act.

At last he stopped walking as his objective loomed in front of him. The device was tall and metallic with a curving base. Misty green light surrounded it, while at its peak; a beam of the same color knifed its way into the reddened sky. Sandstone and dark brown were its colors; perhaps the stain from 50,000 years of living below ground had overpowered its original paint? Perhaps, perhaps not, though the tech was beyond ancient, the Prothean Beacon was functional.

Balak felt himself lift off of his feet as he relaxed his arms to his sides. Its design was simple…yet elegant, bare…but sublime. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the last word crossed his mind.

_Sublime…_

Just like how the day would end.


	12. Finish Line

Finish Line

The tram soared along the track, the countryside little more than a burning blur to its occupants as the spaceport gradually came into focus. Metallic surfaces were marred from the explosions that had kissed them earlier. Bullet holes cut into the faces of the walls like pock marks on a plague victim. Denser craters of damage along the paneling were the closest indicators of thickened fighting between attackers and defenders.

A slow rumble stirred the air as a dark shape began to ascend. Even at this distance Shepard could make out the familiar cut of a Hegemony dropship. It gained altitude slowly, hovering in the air a moment before its engines flared white. Shepard paid little heed to its soaring form; his focus was on their rapidly approaching destination.

"Were naked out here," said Shepard, as his cracked visor brought into focus the figures moving on the second level and first. "Kaiden, throw a barrier over our section, as soon as were in range they'll start firing." He turned to Quayd and pointed to a nest of crates as the other biotic threw a shimmering shield of blue over their car. "Stay low and don't come out without my say so."

"Sure! Ok!" said the nodding batarian, which looked if not relieved, less nervous as he hid himself amongst the cover of the trams goods. Lastly he looked to the sergeant, whom was removing the sniper rifle from her back and eyed him expectantly. "Hang back until we divert their attention, after that find some ground and start shooting." Ashley nodded and Shepard turned around to eye the looming structures. Subconsciously he flared the amp in his brain, his skull tickled but it didn't feel like a hole was being burned through it anymore.

Satisfied, he pulled out his shotgun a moment before a light hail began to patter on their protective dome. First it was a few gunmen gauging the distance, but soon enough it grew into a deadly rain, as the tram slowed. Each marine marked where the flashes of light in the artificial storm came from, along with an unfamiliar wink of blue that came from guns of synthetic creation: Geth rounds splashed against their bubble, whereas the batarians made it ripple. Shepard felt a blossom of concern as a grenade launcher on the second floor began to wash the air around them with fire and shrapnel.

With a flash of light Alenko vanished. Shepard threw out palm and lifted the nearest pair of hostiles waiting near the docking tram. Both geth soared into the air from the cover of a winding ramp before the commander crushed them both with a clenched fist. A flash of blue and white followed a thunderous discharge: a rain of flailing aliens bounced off of railing and landed with crunching finality on the levels near the still tram.

"Aim high," said the marine, before his eyes glowed purple and vanished in a haze.

Williams ran to the nearest ramp only when there was a lull in gunfire. Both marines were hitting hard with their biotics and keeping the aliens disoriented with their speed; while the higs were concerned with trying to pin down the vanishing pair, the sergeant half crawled-half crouched her way to the first level, cycling the mod on her rifle as she made ground.

As she rounded the corner at the top of the path, she bumped into a long grey cylinder of metal. It was lying across in front of her and offered little cover, but it was better than what the distracted batarians had: without the boon of high ground and the crates blocking the gaps in the railing, they were practically defenseless from her position. She lay prone behind it and zoomed through her scope, the remaining adrenaline in her suit flowing into her bloodstream as she sighted and fired.

Everything before her eyes slowed to a crawl, the world moving inch by painful inch as she breathed out and felt the weapon kick against her shoulder. Her first victim was a batarian with his back to her: her disruptor rounds overloaded his shields and sent him backward. As electricity arced through the holes in his suit and sent his heart into arrest, she pumped another few rounds into his distant companion.

The higs skull exploded outwards in a red mist as a round entered a left eye and took off the other half his face. Static seemed to crackle between the fountaning blood as he began to dip over the railing. Her last rounds were emptied into the upper torso of another batarian, the alien died mid turn and seemed to fall like a tree with lighting flowing through its trunk.

The heat sink of her weapon popped with a glowing hiss of orange. The barrel of her rifle shifted to the pair of synthetics rising from another grey cylinder of metal. Shields popped, sparks erupted from bullet wounds, and white fluid flowed from their forms. She registered their metallic whines as her artificial high ended, their cyclopean eyes fluttered before they collapsed on top of one another.

Suspiciously she held her position a few moments more, tempting more targets to come out and die. When none did, she rose to a crouch and got another look at her own cover. The pair of geth she killed was hunched over a cylinder identical to her own, and Williams didn't believe for a moment that the machines were fiddling with it out of curiosity.

The sergeant leaned over the metal and the thick bundles of black fibers at the ends. She put a hand to the pad and saw the blue glow from the display case and the numbers on its form. The script was batarian, that she could read it meant that the language lessons from basic had taken hold. Williams had braved much death on this day: she had seen plenty of men and women and children die horribly at the hands of monsters. She had killed her fair share of them with her weapon and even more with her own two hands. All the same though, she felt like pissing herself when she realized what she had just used as cover in a firefight.

A clatter of bullets cut into her shock and she moved once again huddled low. She reached for her micro bead and spoke a single word to her team.

* * *

"NUKES!"

The word came out in a rush in Shepards helmet, panic mingling with a hint of disbelief as the sergeant shouted, "TWO-." She got no further, as the commander charged through material with his biotics. His form phasing through scarred cover as easily as the omni-blade on his left hand cleaved through the neck of a hiding batarian.

The dead man's skull twisted to regard him as it bounced off its body, the momentum carrying it forward as his gun clattered. Shepard bent a knee and turned with his shotgun to blast a synthetic apart at the knees. He rolled towards its falling form as bullets stitched into his shield and the cover of a wall.

Shepard finished the moving half of the geth with a blast that tore through the armor of its back. He reloaded a heat sink and rose to his feet. Looking from where he came he saw Kaiden crouching over one of the metal cylinders with a biotic barrier protecting them both. The lieutenant's omnitool glowed as he hacked his way through the devices software and tore out the wiring of its hardware with a free hand.

Between the both of them they had cleared out their half of the first level in good-albeit destructive-time. However they were deadlocked halfway through the second; even with the barrier the commander tossed up, the amount of gunfire pouring in gave him second thoughts of crawling out of it. His most immediate form of backup was busy trying to keep them all from being vaporized. The possibility of more nukes made the situation worse: calling for caution to prevent them from detonating.

Not so for their enemies, they seemed to understand that all they really needed to do was stall for time. They were dug in well enough, and their concentration of fire made a frontal assault a question of suicide. Every second they delayed in ending this meant less time to deactivate the bombs or worse: some would-be martyr would take it upon themselves to speed up the process and scatter their ashes halfway across the continent.

Shepard brought a hand to his helmet and quipped, "Ashley?"

"Yes sir?"

"I'm midway through the second level opposite of you. I've got," he rounded a corner and counted, "seven x-ray's, I'll pull 'em up, you'll put 'em down," he clicked off his comm. and turned the corner. He flared his amp and threw a shimmering hand out to lock everything in his immediate line of sight in a biotic grip. With a flourish he ripped a fist backwards and tore everything that wasn't nailed down hurling into the air.

Drunkenly and slowly they floated, like water in zero gee. The commander walked out of his bubble and darted to the nearest cover. Over he aimed, and blew out the pearly intestines of an automaton with two barks of his weapon. He began firing into another that seemed to dance on invisible strings.

By the time it was little more than a ruined mess held together in a debris field, the sergeant had found herself a vantage point. Lonely bullets soon found new company with hearts and lungs, in processors and circuitry. A handful of shots ricocheted off of the crates that were cover, intercepting the sergeant's weapon but never more than a handful. When the mass effect field dissipated their forms fell with boneless finality, unto metal and over railing.

Shepard proceeded forward and rounded a corner: beholding a dead end of material that held a lone batarian and a pair of geth. A throw caved the higs chest inward and sent him backward to knock down a synthetic before it could fire. One did manage to squeeze off a burst from its weapon but Shepard was close enough to end the affair before it could do more than pop his shields. He fired until his barrel glowed red and whined a warning.

A sudden silence surrounded him as soon as he was finished. Eyeing his now functioning radar he spoke with index and middle finger touching the side of his helmet, "Status?"

Kaiden spoke first through the radio, "Ash's making her way toward you. First is finished and the second is…done. Gonna take a look at the third, be done in a minute or so."

"I hope it takes less time than that Alenko" said Shepard, as he clicked on his omnitool and did a scan.

"Hope, grease and some omnigel" said Alenko.

"Found a fourth one behind some crates. Have Ashley do a scan and a sweep, if there are any more presents left for us I'd like to find them."

"Aye aye"

The commander clicked off his comm. and went to work on the nukes detonator.

* * *

"Last one?" grunted Kaiden, as he tore out the paneling and rummaged through the devices wiring. They were back on the first level; the sergeant was standing behind him and kept her weapon ready to provide him cover. The lieutenant appreciated the gesture but didn't think it was necessary, the now functioning radar in his helmet read only one hostile, and upon inspection it was their VIP looking over his cover.

Regardless, he would risk a peek at the little display every now and again, if the geth showed up then the thing would jam, he was sure of that, it happened too often to be a coincidence. Ashley answered him by the time that thought finished its track, "I searched top and bottom and every crook in between. "Other than the one the commanders fiddling with, the scans are showing zip on the boxes and zilch in the immediate area."

"_Immediate_ area," said Kaiden, grunting the key word as he cut through wiring and examined the readings on his omnitool,

"Do you think they have a _fifth_ one outside of range sir?"

"I hope to fuck not Williams. Four seems appropriate enough for overkill. But on the other hand…do you think God loves us sergeant?"

Ashley was taken back with the question, "Body and soul sir," she answered back in certain tones.

"Well hold onto that feeling, because if I'm wrong than were about to meet him in about…oh I don't know…a minute or so," said Kaiden as he rose to his feet. The timer was frozen on the bomb but not on his omnitool. He rose on his feet and charged himself towards the commanders spot.

He rounded a corner and saw a dead bat and two broken toasters. The black armor of the N7 was hunched in a ball over the nukes cylinder. Kaiden walked around him to eye his progress, but the action proved unnecessary. Shepard clicked off his omnitool when the device's timer ceased, he looked a question at Alenko.

"Forty five seconds."

Kaiden turned back around and saw the sergeant sprinting towards their position, climbing staircases and running across the walkways. By the time she approached both men could hear her petitioning the Almighty under her breath,"…He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands lest thou dash thy foot against a stone…"

"Twenty seconds."

Williams sucked in a long breath and held it, and held it…and held it…as the timer clicked to zero.

The wind whistled in their ears as Shepard made his way back to the railing. He glanced left, then right and waited for the world to explode. When it didn't he turned back to his marines.

Williams dared to breath and Alenko exhaled softly through his nose as they approached. A smile on Shepard's face threatened to break out, but he kept it hidden to a low smirk. A hint of relief was in his voice as he said simply, "Thank you Jesus."

Kaiden's grin fit his face like a glove. As Shepard hugged the wall once more and proceeded down to its end with a pistol in hand, he turned to look back to the sergeant "Score one for the home team."

Ashley's snort held relief as Kaiden laughed. Shepard turned a corner and Alenko was about to follow when something caught his eye. His shadow seemed to leap and dance to an angle that it had no business being at.

Ashley saw the flash where the LT didn't; it reflected off his left shoulder followed by another that illuminated the world in front of her. She didn't look up, if she did she might glimpse another light as it formed and go blind. In her mind's eye she saw them for what they were: godlike toadstools of fire and ash rising into a crimson sky, seeding the planet with poisonous spores that would seep deep and could never be rooted out.

_Quayd_ she thought. She went to the railing and shouted down to the tram below, "Quayd! Don't look at the-",

Too late.

From her vantage point she could see Quayd huddled in a fetal position. The batarian had enough sense not to scream and give away his hiding spot, but from the way he was clutching at his eyes and shaking the poor bastard probably glimpsed one of nukes going off in the distance.

"Is he alive?"

The sergeant turned and saw the commander staring at her with a neutral expression. "Yes sir," she said.

"Good," he replied, before spinning on a heel. He walked back to an open platform of metal and crates.

"Sir," said Alenko, who fell into step behind him "the-"

"I know," the commander sounded subdued. He touched a hand to his ear and walked onwards, "Normandy this is Shepard, were at a spaceport and have located the beacon," both of his fellow marines snapped out of their dismay and focused on the commanders back, "transferring coordinates, will hold location until pick up."

All three marines beheld the mushroom clouds shifting by the wind. Beyond a field of bright orange and the stench of burned glass all four clouds were dissipating, only to have a fifth one flash to their far right and join its companions.

Than further out than that a sixth.

With a grunt Shepard brought their attention back to him, as he uprooted a section of the platform that held the familiar spikes of dead men. They hurled-still attached to their devices-to their second deaths far below. Williams and Alenko registered the commander's actions peripherally as they saw the tall glowing artifact that lay in the middle of their sight.

The Prothean Beacon was unmarred neither by time nor by the hands of the primitives which hauled it out of the earth. It stood oblivious to the devastation around it and the hell that was being added to the world around them. Alenko sigh was tired as he said something about a "consolation prize." Ashley paid him little heed as he turned to talk with his CO. _It wasn't glowing when they dug it out_ thought the sergeant. Curious, she approached the device to get a better look.

* * *

Shepard brought a hand down from his ear and eyed the approaching lieutenant, "Progress?" he asked. Shepard nodded, "Established contact with Pressly, they're coming down from orbit for pick up."

"Orbit?"

"They've been busy."

Kaiden nodded and was about to reply, but a deep thrumming shook through them and cut him off. He couldn't see the source which shook the air around them, but Shepard could: the beacon flared a bright green as the noise rose to a grinding pitch. The reason for that became apparent when the sergeant held her hands in front of her to protect herself, her feet was skidding forward as she struggled to move backwards out of the devices hold over her.

Without conscious thought Shepard shoved past Kaiden, and in three long strides he collided into the woman. He hooked his arms around her waist and pivoted on his own, sending her sprawling away from him and towards the lieutenant.

With a flare of biotics he tried to will himself away but to no avail: invisible hands dragged him forwards and off his feet into the air. He felt his muscles spasm as an alien presence invaded his mind. He gritted his teeth at the intrusion and the army of images it forced their way into his brain. Helpless he floated, incapable of nothing but a strangled breath between clenched teeth.

Williams cried, "Commander!" as she scrambled back up, only to have an armored glove grab her by the waist and drag her back. "No!" she yelled.

"Too fucking dangerous!" yelled Kaiden as he saw the device glowed brighter with a luminescent green.

He had enough time to drag her back a few steps before the 50,000 year old beacon exploded.

The commander flew backward several meters, landing hard on his ass before rolling over a shoulder and landing on his chest. Kaiden released Ashley and activated the radio in his helmet. He spoke urgently into the comm. as the sergeant turned over the N7 and shook him.

"Shepard!"

The commander remained unresponsive, his eyes white beneath half closed lids. Kaiden jogged over to them both and glanced skyward as he heard the roar of familiar engines. The Normandy gradually began to take shape as it fell from the heavens, an angel of blue and white metal that descended to to the irradiated hell of what was humanity's pride and joy. Down it came to claim one of its fallen protectors and those charges whom failed with him.

By the time they had loaded the commander and Quayd into the belly of the ship, the light had at last faded from the paradise they had fought, bled and died for. The only light that remained in the coming shadow were the plumes of nuclear clouds, of scorched fields, and burning cities. Upward it went into the shadow of the stars above, to mourn the second loss of Eden and to plan its revenge on those that had damned it once more.


	13. Aspirin Anyone?

Aspirin Anyone?

Shepard woke with a start.

He lay there on his back, wincing at the dim light of a ceiling and bringing a hand to block out the illumination. A tug resisted the gesture though, and eyes weak from disuse followed the snakelike tubes that wound their way into his arm. The IV bag rattled a tune as he struggled forward.

"Doc! I think he's awake!"

Gritting his teeth at the noise and cradling his head in his hands, he sat on his bedding. A glance through splayed fingers showed the grey and white cut of a medical uniform. Chakwas reached him first followed by the sergeant Williams trailing behind. Her dark hair was cut short, what excess remained was tied in a ponytail that bounced against the back of her neck.

Chakwas grabbed the commander's head and pried open an eyelid, "How do you feel commander?"

Shepard kept still as she waved an instrument over the green bruises in his face. "Like the morning after shore leave," his voice felt raw and tight. "How long was I out?"

"Three days," said Williams, as she moved towards the end of his bed.

Chakwas brought a small metallic disk and stuck it onto the commander's chest. "The sergeant's been your most frequent visitor in that time commander. She's been speaking on your behalf with our Maker while I attended to you."

Shepard glanced down at the blanket and looked at her with groggy eyes. She snorted as she took the disc off his chest and activated her omnitool, "Your bladder wasn't going to drain itself you know."

"I'm sorry you had to take _that_ one for the team doc," said the commander, as Chakwas scanned him head to foot with soft light. While she was pouring over the results the commander looked back at Williams and noticed she was eyeing him. He looked down, and realized that other than the blanket over his waist he didn't have much in the way of clothing.

"Your left arm commander," said Chakwas.

Shepard leaned over and gave her the asked appendage. Williams eyes took in the dark muscles of his arms and the tattoo that made up the commanders left shoulder before roaming downward. Brown eyes took in brown muscles nicked by battle and scarred with service. She made note a knife wound that stretched from a collar bone and past a right peck, the faded bullet wounds that puckered the abs on his left, the blossom of scar tissue that stretched outwards from his navel…

"Williams?"

"Sir?"

Shepard's eyes held mirth as he spoke, "Are you gonna keep ogling the merchandise or do you plan on making a purchase today?"

The sergeant's lips were cut from her earlier beating, her chin was a healing mess of scrapes and she had a medicinal patch over a cheek that was rubbed raw. Despite her wounds, and the flesh surrounding her bandaged nose being a dusky purple, Shepard watched with some amusement as scarlet tinted her neck and face.

"Would this _purchase_ you speak of occur before or after I remove the catheter from your penis commander?"

Shepard looked the doctor dead in the eye, "_Thank you_ mother for killing the moment."

The doctor was unperturbed, "I had to do something to get your attention. We may have a problem if you didn't register the pinch I just gave you." She bent his pinky finger backwards, "Do you feel this commander?"

Shepard's glanced down at his hand and responded, "No."

"This?" she bent back his ring finger.

Shepard sobered, "No"

He said no again after she bent back his middle finger, but responded with an empathetic yes when she repeated the exercise on his forefinger. She let his hand drop, "Just as I feared, you burned out some of the nerves in your hand. Did you tax yourself by chance during the mission?"

Williams remembered the singularity that the commander created, the one that swallowed the tram station and most of their zombie like attackers.

"A little," he said back.

The doctor nodded and clicked a few keys on her omnitool, "You'll still heal if your cut, and the fingers are still workable…but it looks like there was some additional neural damage through your amp that discharged along your spine. The damage is minor but you may get some tingling in your lower extremities every now and again. If it persists see me immediately."

Her voice echoed little off of the blue metal walls of the Normandy's infirmary as she clicked off her omnitool. Shepard glanced around and saw he was on the bed at the rear of the room; near a door that led to a secondary workstation for Chakwas. To his right was a row of empty beds, a desk for Chakwas and a couple of automated assistants that stood deactivated on wheeled bases.

"What'd I miss?" he quipped at last, "What happened to the beacon?"

"It was…destroyed commander," said Chakwas, a note of concern as she watched his reaction.

_Fuck me sideways._

"How?"

"It was my fault sir."

Shepard turned to the sergeant and she elaborated, "While you were talking with the LT, I got close to it…but you went in and grabbed me before it could do anything to me. You hovered for a minute in front of it before it exploded."

Shepard groaned and put his heads in his hands as he went back down on the bed. "You'd think the protheans would at least have the courtesy of extending the warranty past the Relays and Citadel."

"Sir?" said Williams confused. "But I…"

The commander dismissed her protest with a wave of his hand, "Maybe the Higs tampered with it before we got there, maybe a fart could have set it off and blown up the planet, or maybe all that homebrewed rotgut I swilled in the militia gave my brain cells an immunity to whatever it did to me. You had no idea what would happen sergeant, leave it that."

Shepard looked back to Chakwas when she spoke next, failing to see the small smile crease the sergeants lips, "I observed for the duration of your unconsciousness that you experienced rapid eye movements. Usually that's a sign of intense dreaming…can you recall anything by any chance?"

"Pieces," Shepard said quietly, as his mind began to remember.

"All of it bad."

A silent hiss and a voice bounced against the walls from the infirmary's entrance, "How's our XO holding up?"

Chakwas turned and shrugged her slim shoulders, "The usual results for an overexcited brain boy, but nothing crippling or debilitating. No adverse affects from his contact with the beacon either. Other than a migraine he appears fit and capable, he should be back on his feet in the hour."

Anderson nodded, pleased at the doctors evaluation. "Ladies, if you don't mind I'd like a word in private…"

"Of course," said Chakwas. Williams nodded and both filed out of the room. Anderson approached Shepard's bedside and asked as soon as they left, "How do you feel commander?"

"Like hammered shit sir."

Anderson nodded again, and Shepard found himself a question of his own, "Did our VIP make it?"

"If you're referring to the dockworker your unit brought along then the answer is yes. I spoke with him before intelligence came by to nab him. He's a little roughed up but he'll pull through. They'll see to it that he testifies one way or another."

"Do we have any idea of _how_ they got under our radar sir?" Shepard's voice held a note of displeasure, "You'd think a force of that size would have stood out as much as a green asari."

Anderson shook his head at his XO's quiet accusation. "There are ways," he said at last. Crossing his arms and pacing he continued, "The Old Hegemony's surveillance system is massive but hardly foolproof. If the salarians could find a way to sneak in during First Contact then it goes to show that others can follow suit…_especially_ if they had help from the geth."

He halted at the edge of the bed, "We know about them as much as our Quarian friends do from their records, but the Geth haven't set foot outside the Perseus Veil for 300 years. We don't know how they operate, let alone what kind of technological curve they're swinging on."

Shepard brought his head up from his pillow to look at his moving captain, "The Black Ship?"

Anderson nodded, "That'd be the most obvious example. It ran point for the attack and bulled through the defense buoys we had in orbit. It's a shame that it pulled out early; if we gutted it we could have found out what made it tick."

He stopped his pacing and wound up on the commanders left side, "Based on the wreckage we managed to salvage, the boys in R&D say that the ships that did the most damage from orbit were based off of a design similar to the pocket dreadnoughts we designed for the March."

_Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery_. "What was their armament?"

"Lasers if you can believe it. Nothing bypasses a shield like radiation. Wreckage points to it being of the ultraviolet spectrum."

_The Good Shit._

"The MAC guns that we managed to get back online paid the ferryman's fee for most of the craft that stayed behind," said Anderson. "It also crippled the second dreadnought they brought along."

_A second dreadnought?_ "Was it a Hig class sir?" It wouldn't be unlikely that the Free Colonies that the diehards called home had one squirreled away…or several. A lot of money, hardware and infrastructure was smuggled out of the Hegemony before the Alliance could finish fucking it over. They had no compunction on spending it to finance their crusade against humanity, but usually they kept toys of that caliber in reserve.

Usually.

"Nothing we had on record matched its design…but then again neither did the Black Ship," said Anderson. "At the moment it's safe to assume that it's of Geth make…but it's odd that they would design one look like a squid and another like a bug, like most of the craft we encountered."

"Did it escape?"

Anderson donned a somber expression, "It did a suicide run against the fleet when they came through the Relay."

"Causalities?" asked Shepard.

"We lost the Cairo, Madrid, Serenity, Warsaw, The Pillar of Autumn, Tanith and Einstein."

"And on planet?"

"Between space and ground forces, we're looking at something between 250,000 to 300,000 casualties, give or take."

Shepard looked at his captain with a puzzled expression as the officer went to lean against the adjacent wall, "So little?"

"They came hard, but they didn't plan on lingering. I'd guess the nukes they brought along were more of an exercise in spite than anything else: they destroyed bases and some of our cities sure, but a lot more were scattered across the continent: forests, dams, lakes, fields, farmlands…

Realization began to dawn on the commander, "Salting the earth."

"Somewhere between a quarter to a third of Eden Prime is gonna be uninhabitable for the next 10,000 years, and if the locals don't die from radiation exposure, than their still gonna have to deal with the geth leftover in the countryside."

Shepard stared at the ceiling. The dim light no longer stung at his eyes, but his head hurt all the same. "I take it were heading to the Citadel?" he asked without turning.

"The Council would take it the wrong way if we brought you to Arcturus first. Besides I'd think they'd want to hear it straight from the horse's mouth on this one."

"Hear what sir?" said Shepard as he propped himself on his elbows, "I failed: the beacon was destroyed and Saren got capped. As far as spectre initiation's go, I think this has to rank somewhere between fucked and a hard place."

Anderson snort held contempt, "I'll piss the Council a tear over Saren, but you did make contact with a prothean beacon commander. Their own specialists might want to find out what it did to you, they'd want to know what it showed you."

Shepard knew that in the newfound silence between them that the captain was waiting on him to speak. Closing his eyes he tried to recall, "It…was a message I think." The commander lay back down, "A vision."

"A vision?" piped Anderson. "A vision of _what_?"

"I saw…" Half coherent images of aliens lying bleeding and damned filled his mind. Hellish fires surrounded him and shapeless horrors inspired terror on the faces of those that he could distinguish. "…Death, destruction…there were synthetics…Geth I think…slaughtering people in their homes…dragging them out and butchering them in the streets…"

Shepard went back down and Anderson grunted thoughtfully, "Sounds a lot like the Rape of Shanxi…is there anything else you can remember? Anything at all?"

Regretfully Shepard shook his head, "Its…jumbled sir. It's like I can see part of the picture, but its blurry, and if I try to lean back and look at the whole thing", Shepard mimed the gesture, "All I get is blank."

"Hmmm…maybe the device wasn't meant to interface with a non-prothean mind, maybe that's why you can't make it out."

"Seems likely," said Shepard. Changing the subject to another, he questioned, "If we're heading to the citadel do you think the Council would approve of an offensive on…Rannoch?" he felt pride at remembering the name of the Quarian homeworld, "Didn't the Armistice have a clause of them assisting us in the case of invasion?"

Anderson came back into view, his head blocked out the illumination from the ceiling above, "Only in the case of a war against a state commander and _state_ is the key word. The Council would be about as likely to recognize the Geth as an independent species as they would Terminus authority. They were unhappy the last time we went in to slap some sense into them, and we'd have to do it again if we were going to pull the plug on these toasters."

_Unhappy_ wasn't the word Shepard would come close to describing it. _Pissing themselves_ seemed more appropriate and why wouldn't they? The rouge species, dictatorships, and pirate lordships were as fickle as a volus was with its money and twice as ruthless. They made good customers to the Hegemony and quarrelsome neighbors to the Alliance after the end of the First Contact war.

Just like the volus though they lived for opportunity: the warring factions that called it home and all but sheltered the Higs from the Alliance's wrath were more than happy to take their money and fight for them…or against them if it proved more profitable. All that was needed was a speck of blood in the water …once sense of weakness from the Free Hegemony that bought their favor…and the pirates and warlords and slavers they supplied would fuck over their former employers with knives and smiles.

Rather than wait for that glorious day though, the Alliance decided to do its part in its hastening. After years of proxy fighting and enduring colonial raids that grew bold enough to culminate at Elysium, the Brass decided that their needed to be a firmer reminder of who was the bitch in the relationship. The Torfan Offensive that earned Shepard his nickname had dug deep through half a dozen systems before ending on the moon of its namesake. By the end of it all, the Alliance had placed itself in a position to rip out the rotted heart of their enemy in a way they hadn't since the Assault on Adek half a century before.

All of this had delighted the Alliance to no end, but not the Council. Having what rightfully appeared as an invasion force on their doorsteps nearly gave the dispossessed and vicious of the galaxy the one thing that kept the most powerful up at night.

Unity.

If the squabbling factions of the Terminus could band together against humanity, than they would have no qualms on turning their sights on anyone that even vaguely associated with them. The Council might win the war in the end, but they'd bleed for it, and for whatever passed for "peace" afterwards. Bringing to heel a part of the galaxy as nearly large as their own domain was an exercise they weren't tempted to try.

"It'd be almost worth it Shepard," said Anderson, seeming to follow the commander's train of thought. "I can't think of anything worse than having an army under the command of that four eyed fuck."

"Balak?"

Anderson's expression was difficult to read, but if the commander had to guess, he'd say that anger was worming its way under the captains still features. "What do we know about him?" he asked, as Anderson turned around and walked.

He stopped at the edge of the bed and clasped his hands together behind his back. He took a long breath to steady himself before answering, "Ka'Hairal Balak." A cold fury dripped from his voice as he gave detail, "An unrepentant slaver, anti human extremist and batarian supremacist. He's been a thorn in humanity's ass since we started to get our own back during First Contact. I can't tell you how many times I fought that bastard and came close to punching his ticket."

The Captain turned back around and eyed the commander, "The last time I saw the ugly bat was on a security feed on Khar'shan."

"What was he doing?"

Anderson shrugged, "Destroying data files, encrypted records, classified information…anything that the Alliance could make a use out of after they finished stomping the Hegemony."

"Was this during the First Drop on Khar'shan sir?" _If it is I need to hear about that sometime_, he thought.

"It was," he said simply. Anderson clicked his tongue between his teeth and stared at the wall over the commander's head, "That was the second hardest choice I ever had to make in my life Shepard: So'paht and his sycophants or their best spectre."

The commander stared at him, as if the captain hadn't just dropped the fact that he had a hand in killing off the last ruler of the Hegemony and his inner circle. _Yep, I _definitely_ need to hear this sometime_. It took even longer than it should have for him to realize the other piece of information that the officer disclosed, "Wait…Balak is a spectre? _A Council Spectre?_"

"_Former_ Council Spectre," Anderson corrected. "He had his status stripped along with a dozen other operatives when the Alliance agreed to the Armistice. He's been at the top of our shit list for all the work he's been doing since: assassinations, bombings, slave raids and worse."

Captain Anderson looked Shepard in the eye and spoke, "He spurred the Mindoir Revolt, organized the Akuze Ambush and masterminded the Elysium Blitz." Shepard's CO spoke with certainty, "That bat is probably laughing his ass off all the way to the Terminus as we speak, and when he comes back with the Geth in tow every man, woman and child in this galaxy will be in for a shitstorm."

"Not if kill him first," growled Shepard.

Anderson pointed a finger at Shepard, "_That's_ what I wanted to hear commander," he said with approval. The captain turned and made his back to the entrance before keying the pad to the door. "Now I've got a report to write, be ready at 1400 for the Council meeting."

"Sir!"


	14. Take Two and Call me in the Morning

Take Two and Call me in the Morning

. "…Have refused to respond, making Ekuna the fourth planet to turn a deaf ear to overtures from Dekunna, and the ninth planet to cease all traffic to citadel space in the last two months…"

Kaiden sipped the coffee from his mug; the brew was potent as it was hot. The steam clung to the skin of his nose as his eyes remained fixed on the screen above. "Citadel authorities have continued to ask for calm from both the Volus and Hanar representatives over the lack of contact from their own colonies in the Traverse: citing the likelihood of pirate raids, given the proximity those worlds had with the Terminus Systems…"

The woman had almond eyes and wore her dark hair in a bun. Her top half was visible over the news counter and her dress was of Asari cut: dark blue coloring with fringes of red at the sleeves. Two other marines sat at the table with him, their noses down in their trays as they dug in with abandon. They were oblivious to the good looks of the anchor woman, but all three were listening intently to the soft purr of her voice.

"…Nonetheless, the statement has done little to ease fears. Even in light of the Council's pledge to review the Elcor petition for a formal investigation, demand from those industries focused on colonial security remains high", she continued. "Elkoss Combine has reported a massive increase in sales for arms and armor for their third quarter, while the Hanar Consortium has recently announced a contract struck with Asgard's Industries; a move many see as no coincidence given the Hanar's preference for automated warfare, and the company's recent success with their _Thor_ series of mechs."

A square like screen appeared next to her head, depicting the frozen smile of an ordinary man with brown hair. "Elias Keeler of the Terra Firma party has negotiated a number of trade deals with non-human colonies for the sale of outdated material from Alliance stock. Despite the promise of discounts for bulk purchases, and Keeler's assertion that his goal of improving frontier defense was being met, the diplomat has continued to face some criticism for what some are calling 'blatant opportunism'. An anonymous party of the Citadel diplomatic corp. went so far as accuse Keeler and those like him as 'fanning the flames of public fear' in an attempt to "better profit from the inferno of paranoia'. In response to the anonymous speaker Keeler rose to the pulpit to dismiss that cla-"

"Probably a bird," interrupted an olive skinned marine. His bald head shined yellow from the lights around the mess. He spoke with food stuffed in a cheek, "When those hypocritical fucks do it they're being _neighborly_, when we do it were greedier than one of those butterballs they love to coddle."

"Not the slugs?" said a blonde brute with surprise. "Usually you blame them for most problems friend Boba."

The marine looked up and waved his fork in the negative. "They usually are Kiril, but those blue bitches are more interested in money than they are in security. Bird's have to take the sticks out their asses before they bitch about anything _but_ peace and order."

"A man of the world." said Alenko with respect, "Now shut up Fett."

"Sir."

"-ouncil has yet to formally respond on the possibility of the Geth being the culprit behind the Blackout given their recent incursion on Eden Prime. Prime Minister Shastri was blunt in his appraisal that the likelihood of this being an isolated incident was 'Unlikely,' and at present, is in correspondence with Admiral Tobar Omari of First Fleet. Sources from Arcturus station claim that the head of Parliament is being advised on defensive scenarios, and has assured the Alliance Brass that measures are being taken to ensure a swift and decisive response in the face of an invasion."

_And that's why you keep getting my vote._

"Tomorrow night, we'll chat with Instructor Bryn Cole of Grissom Academy and hear her analysis on this synthetic threat and ways to overcome it." The woman smiled intimately, "This is Emily Wong of the Alliance News Network, bringing facts for Man and all of his kind."

The screen winked out to advertisements. Kaiden clicked the mute button to give his ears a reprieve from listening to Elcor actors drone Shakespeare. "_Now_ you can bitch my ear off," he said.

The young marine looked game at the invitation, but rather than swallow and speak he swallowed and stood. Kaiden was a beat slow behind his counterparts across the table, but the approaching figure waved them all back down. "At ease", said the commander.

His walk held a slight limp: distinct but barely noticeable as his face was bathed in yellow illumination. He wore a simple crew member's uniform: black with cobalt trim along the edges. Blues of various hues made the camouflage that hugged the inside of his thighs while the muscles of his arms were exposed, with sleeves rolled to his shoulders.

"Our sleeping beauty awakens once more," said Alenko, raising his mug in salute.

"Told you he pull through," said the olive skinned marine as went back to his plate.

The blue eyed hulk gave an incredulous look as he pointed with a fork, "I told _you_-".

The commander ignored their bickering. "Anymore left?"

"Fresh pot on the stove," the lieutenant pointed further back to the mess. Drinking a hefty wallop he asked, "How do you feel sir?"

"Better than that haircut lieutenant," said Shepard as he extended a glowing hand that lifted a cup and pot. As he poured, the lieutenant ran a hand through his hair, "and here I thought the sideburns were an endearing quality."

Shepard poured sugar and cream into his drink, "To a blind man maybe."

"I'd be too, if I caught the shine from that dome of yours sir."

Shepard grabbed the floating mug and his biotics dissipated. "Terrible taste in hair aside, do you feel like being useful to me today lieutenant?"

Alenko raised an eyebrow in response, as the others continued to eat.

Shepard blew on his coffee and gave an experimental sip, "I've seen Williams first and you second…but where's Jenkins?"

Kaiden put his cup down and glanced at the marines across from him. Both stopped eating and shared a look. Turning his eyes back to his XO he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "The ah…Captain didn't tell you?" he asked

Shepard's expression gave no hint as to his thoughts. Rather than answer he pointed back at the door a dozen feet behind him. "I just got out of the infirmary so the answer is no."

The lieutenant spoke hesitantly, "Jenkins…he's not with us anymore sir,"

Shepard had a longer pull at his coffee and looked Kaiden in the eye over the rim. He grunted and said simply, "Details."

"From what I heard, Jenkins was right where we left him: sweeping chimneys brick by brick for bats. After he finished smoking the last of them out from the habs, he managed to get his radio working…only it wasn't with us he heard but a garrison nearby. They sounded like they were under siege, so our corporal decided to play Calvary..."

"Ambush?" asked the commander, but Kaiden shook his head. "Try a small army of toasters instead. Since he came up from behind though, he ran into their artillery first, blew _that_ to hell and then spent an hour cutting his way through metal to get to the survivors."

Shepard continued drinking and gestured for the marine to continue, "He broke through and wound up in the base. Our would-be hero reinforced the remaining troops: a bat regiment if you can believe it. Bought time for them to haul out their wounded and regroup in the woodlands about half a kilometer away," the biotic sniffed and itched his nose, "He kept fighting as their rear guard until the dropships rolled in. All three of them."

The commander remembered the trio of insect like craft that passed over their heads during their run to the station. "Oh yeah," said the lieutenant, reading his thoughts. "They came in hot and heavy. Jenkins had roughed up the mech before hand-Atlas can take all kinds of hell-but even he had to do more than sweat at that kind of firepower."

Kaiden looked down at his drink and had a long pull. Shepard didn't indulge the lieutenant in leaning forward to his every word, but merely waited. "Somehow," said the biotic after a swallow, "he managed to swat two out of the air and wound the third, but that was well after they dropped their reinforcements right on top of him."

Shepard finished his coffee in one swig. "Private Richard L. Jenkins held out for a total of two hours: squashing some spider things, anti-armor units and a big red Geth that was about as tall as your ass is black. Fought it off with the one hand that he had left," he held out an empty hand and gestured with stiff fingers "and tore out whatever it used for a heart with the claw. He tried to jump out from the mech. after that-probably worried that it'd go critical-and that's when it happened."

"It?"

"It fell on him."

Shepard stared at him and then looked up to the silent screen above the table. He didn't register the advertisement for a new reality show, nor the teaser for the seventh Blasto film. He responded instead with a tone that held a mix of disbelief and resignation, "The Atlas fell on him."

"Yep," said Kaiden

"You're shitting me."

"Nope, a servo gave out in its leg, when it landed on him it broke his back clean through. Our brave bats in blue came back with armor, and drove the rest of the toasters back. They found him like that, under three tons of metal."

Shepard looked back down and glanced at the faces before him. He took a deep breath, "I've been serving for more than a decade," he said. "I've seen men die in every way you can think of…and in a lot of ways that you don't want to, but out of all the ways to clock out that has be the_ shittiest_."

"Yeah," said the marine. "They brought him to an evac shuttle then smuggled him off planet in a hospital ship. I'm told that he'll be back on his feet in six months with a prosthetic spine but…" he spread his hands "you know how that goes."

It took a long, long minute for Shepard to compose a response to that tidbit. "Nerve tests in his lower proximities," he said at last, "Which probably means his nurses will make sure his Johnson can respond to stimuli as soon as he gets a tingle in his legs…and they'll do that for him for about as long as he's in there hands."

Kaiden spoke with utmost sympathy, "Not long enough, the poor bastard."

Shepard laughed first, a hard laugh that left him snorting for air and blinking tears from his eyes. Kaiden laughed with him, as did the other two marines. "Lieutenant," said the commander as he gathered his breath, "you pull my balls like that again and I'll slap the wax out of your ears,"

"Aye aye sir," said the laughing biotic.

The marines were still busting a gut when Williams made her way around the lift and to the mess hall. Shepard turned at the shadow he made and smiled at her. "Sergeant Williams! Good to see you!"

"Better to see you walking sir."

"I'd drink to that but I'm out of coffee." The commander gestured with his chin at the other marines, "Allow me to introduce: this ugly bastard is lieutenant Kaiden Alenko…" the marine saluted again with his mug, "and this happy couple is-"

"Private Boba hunter of Higs," said the sergeant in good humor, "The wall next to him is Private Kiril Ignaeativ, breaker of batarians and fucker of slarrbecs."

Shepard shook his head as the marines finished their chuckling, "I keep forgetting I've been on my ass for three days. Exploring the ship?"

"Yes sir. The Captain told me to pick a locker in the hangar and get my equipment sorted."

"You're staying with us then?" asked the commander.

She looked hesitant, "You…the Captain didn't tell you sir?"

The men at the table bust out laughing again along with the commander. Shepard shook his head as Kaiden held his head in his hands and cried, "She said it not me!"

She looked unsure but spoke as their voices began to quiet, "There's a slot open on ship after Jenkins…and since I'm here the Captain decided that he'd keep me along for the ride."

"You have to be a motherfucker to qualify for the Normandy Sergeant, if the Captain wants you on his beast, than it means you measure up."

She seemed to perk at the commander's words as the other marines nodded their agreement. Shepard's smile slipped when he eyed his mug once more. "Since I'm plum out of caffeine I'm gonna get a refill. You want any Williams?"

"Yes sir, black would do just fine."

Boba snorted as they walked to the kitchens behind them, he managed to get out, "I bet it wou-" before Kiril elbowed him in the ribs so hard he choked on a morsel. Kaiden clicked on the volume to cover the sounds of the marines coughing, as Williams and Shepard made their way to the pot and the food. The kitchen was a small affair complete with fridge, cooker and counter that stood opposite of the infirmary, and shared the wall that sheltered the captain's quarters. At the rear of the second deck were the coffin like sleeping pods standing erect in a round hall.

Shepard handed her, her poison of choice and gestured to the marines back at the table. "They bicker like a krogan and salarian, but they got blood under their belt…unlike Jenkins" he confided. "That fucker made me proud, but hopefully he learned something from all of this."

Ashley drank and inquired after some thought, "That no matter how much of a badass you think you are, life finds a way to shit on you anyway…sir?"

Shepard looked thoughtful as he saw Kiril slam a paw into Boba's back. "Yeah," he nodded. "Pretty much."

Williams went back to her coffee, when she looked back up she saw the commander's green eyes fixed on the newsfeed above the table. She looked herself and saw a dark skinned reporter speaking into a camera. Shots of devastation were shown in sequence: of men and women crowding in shelters and zipping the lifeless in dark bags. Many were dark and filthy; more were on gurneys coughing blood into their hands in a field hospital. A close shot of a child with a tube in his throat filled the screen, half his face was monstrously torched while the other looked to be serene and sleeping peacefully.

_Close enough to burn, not enough to fry_ she thought as her mind returned to the mushroom clouds blowing in the wind…

"Williams?"

"Sir?" she glanced back at the commander. His scar seemed to twitch involuntarily as he asked, "Do we…have any idea as to what our total losses were for Eden?"

She looked back to him and those green eyes. "_Total_ sir?"

"Residents included."

"Ah," she said. "Well…scuttlebutt says that we lost about 300,000 people…" The commander nodded, "…but if you're asking for a figure with our Batarians in it, then I heard the numbers were around 600…maybe 700,000."

Shepard made a wordless grunt. "Sounds about right," he said as he made his way around the counter.

Williams's eyes peered back to the screen and the figure of an angry looking official making a speech. His red face and gestures were interrupted with a standing ovation. She spoke to the commander as he made his way around the counter. "Who'd thought that our first fight with the Geth would be a skirmish?"

Shepard brought out a tray and heaped a ladle full of food on his plate, "The universe is full of surprises sergeant, all of them horrible. What's rarer still, is when they come in gentle."


	15. The Meeting

She _never_ got used to the walls.

She didn't think she _could_ get used to them and that disquieted her on a level more primitive than she cared to admit. Its metal was blacker than the void and just as warm. Its design was strangely bare and yet terrible to process.

The material twisted and danced, contorting and flowing out of the corner of the eye. New shapes were made when the back was turned and its patterns could range from nauseating to mind boggling. Every angle tempted the sight and begged the gaze to linger. For the woman, it was a struggle to focus on her sandaled feet and a losing one at that. Those walls stared after her and into her core.

It didn't help that the hall was barely lit. If anything it made it worse. Her dignified steps hid the nervousness that pervaded her flesh. The hands clasped behind her back prevented them from trembling; a set jaw kept teeth from grinding and the only thing keeping her from glancing over her shoulder was the counting of her footfalls.

After all these months of travel on the vessel, the feeling of…it was difficult to describe. Prey? Drowning? Trespasser? Insect? Had her people _really_ used such terms to describe the first few weeks they boarded? What it really felt like was as if she was leaning backward over the precipice of some vast cliff: leaning halfway over the edge, expecting to fall and incapable of doing so. Any words that _could_ have come close to describing such a sensation continued to elude her.

No.

They fled from her completely.

She could not fathom how the ship _worked_. A sentence could be swallowed and a speech could be belched at a whim. A conversation whispered on one end of the vessel could be heard as clear as artillery fire from the other. Sometimes the walls would repeat the message for days…or was it weeks? Time seemed to have as little meaning in this place as her previous life did. What _was_ clear to her was her mission: her presence on the craft, her people and the orders she received. Anything else seemed trivial in comparison.

She made a left turn, and her feet slapped metal. There _should_ have been an echo on this part of the walkway. But no sound bounced off of that horrible metal. Instead, her steps created a ghostly tune that rose in crescendo. It prickled her toes, teased her legs, fluttered her stomach and flushed her brain.

In a lapse of reason she prayed. She prayed to the Goddess of her mothers, the Goddess of her people and the Goddess that ignored her all these months that it wouldn't be the echo she thought it would b-

_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_

The sound seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. It bounced off of her hat and clawed at her dress before melting into the floor. Centuries of social maneuvering had granted her the ability to keep her face still no matter the circumstance. Too the world she was as implacable as ever...still and as immovable as a winter lake. The mask she wore gave no hint to the molten terror that wormed its way into her heart. For a crazed moment, it was the haunting melody that taunted her since she boarded: the song that made her gut cringe and her knees weak…but then it became clearer to her. She neither laughed with relief nor did she permit a tear of joy, but her passionless deity had finally granted her a reprieve.

It was not a child's laughter she heard.

Further ahead, in a tunnel bright with light was the source of the mirth. It was rendered thick with glee and heavier with amusement. It was the master's voice, and it rang as clear as a bell in the world around her.

All at once she felt her form relax and the trembling in her fingers cease. Her fluttering heart slowed and the hint of dread she carried was replaced with certainty. When she approached his sanctum it was with a head held high.

Great bundles of wiring stretched forth amongst the mouth of the tunnel like the veins of some great beast. She walked on through until she ended up in a spacious chamber, bare save for a few amenities. A great circular desk of a blue deeper than her skin dominated the center of the room. A large chair of leather floated off of the floor at its center, the only sign that the rich burgundy was occupied was the green fuzzed slippers that lay propped on the ancient wood.

The occupant chose to take down his feet from its vantage point and the chair dipped an inch in protest. "Nezzy!" a voice cried with jubilee. A hand came to the side of the chair and waved her forward. "Come look at this!"

Dutifully, she walked forward.

The screen the master was watching expanded tenfold: the scowling features of a human rendered pink with rage dominated the screen. The man opened his mouth to speak but nothing emerged. He gestured, he shook and his knuckles were pale as he gripped the podium he was speaking from. "Should tie some bells in his beard," he said with a chortle, "monkey should have a tune to go with that dance of his." A second screen appeared within the larger one: a green world washed red, with craters in farm zones and blue oceans choking with atomic debris…

Chuckles washed over her.

"Hold up, hold up, hold up…give me a minute…" the master clicked a virtual key on the computer before him. Giggling he leaned back as the screens changed again: the smaller depicted a makeshift ward where humans were lined on medical beds in great rows while the second showed rows of a different sort. Dark bags filled the floor from end to end: so many were being added that they had to be stacked in some places.

"_This_ is the best part," said the master, with a titter that showed needles.

The second vid disappeared, but the larger one remained. It showed the form of a human child, half roasted from nuclear fire and sporting a hole in his neck from where a breathing tube was inserted. He was lifted from his gurney and placed on the floor to be zipped into a plastic coffin.

"My favorite kind of ape!" he said rocking his hover chair. "Half baked!" the master laughed so hard at the image spit flew from his teeth.

The woman took in her master's appearance with the corner of an eye; he was wearing a robe of crimson silk with those green slippers. Two different names were etched onto the tops of the toes in bright silver, and those feet brushed one of the many hazards that consumed the curving field of his desk.

Some of the items she recognized from her diplomatic days: propaganda pieces from the Hegemony and a few cultural artifacts from the civilizations before it. The desk itself was worth a fortune-the trees that made it were rendered all but extinct during the Fall of Khar'shan-but the master was likelier to kiss the feet of a human than so much as sell it.

The others were strange to her: blocks, figures and curiosities that were colorful in nature and fantastic to behold. The mother in her believed them to be toys of some sort, but she wasn't going to pay them anymore heed than was required. Her place was to serve, so she cleared her throat for the report that needed to be said.

She waited while the master clicked a button and cycled through the vids. She'd wait on him for hours if need be-an activity he did more than once with a touch amusement-when she made herself known to him. Given time she had proven her worth, and was granted the privilege of addressing him in person.

"What is it?" he asked, his merry tone betrayed a hint of annoyance.

"The remaining Geth on Eden Prime have intercepted a number of reports from the Alliance's communications." Her voice was as calm as a brook and dripped with experience, "Some of the bombs failed to go off."

The master dismissed that with a wave of his hand, "More than enough went off for our little heartwarming gift to those shit slinging bastards. Ignore it. How soon can our assets be mobilized?"

"There were some complications on containment," said she, her voice giving no hint of emotion whatsoever. "Fail-safe's weren't incorporated and my warnings fell on deaf ears. As of today, it will mark the second month that the facility has remained under quarantine."

The master snorted at that with contempt, "Never trust a bastard who pays another to lick his asshole for him. I want _something_ from this investment Nezzy. Get a dozen of your cunts together and grab a shuttle, head down there and un-fuck this. And when you're done…" He picked up an artifact from his left: a wickedly curved blade with slots along the edges. He examined it with disinterest as he completed his thought, "…skin those shits for their stupidity."

"Of course, but I only bring up our attack on Eden Prime because the bombs near the beacon refused to go off."

The master slid the knife back into its leather holster.

"Explain."

"Footage provided by the Geth before their platforms were destroyed indicates that a human team broke through shortly after you departed." She clicked her omnitool and the screen's image changed. Fighting and gunfire greeted the mechanical eye of the Geth as it fired out of cover at an assailant.

"And the beacon?"

"Destroyed…," she said, the Geth went up into the air with a violet flourish and remained there even as a dark figure dashed at it. The human's weapon barked and its optics were blasted to static. The master furrowed his brows and ordered, "Rewind at 1426 and freeze."

The screen shifted back to the dark figure and became still. "Clear this up," he ordered. The woman obeyed and the screen changed again. It was one of the human's marines, one with dark skin and equally dark armor painted here and there in crimson. The green of his eyes was as clear to them as the designation on his chest.

The master sniffed and leaned back in his chair. Cradling his head in his normal hand, a temple throbbed visibly in the tar like skin of his skull. Unperturbed at the rigidness of his form, she finished, "…there is a possibility that it may have used it before it was lost." The master was silent as he stared at the screen, "Where?"

"My contacts on the Citadel report that a human military craft was granted high level docking access a few hours after the-" she got no further. With a flourish the master spun and backhanded her with his normal arm. The blow sent her sideways and onto the floor.

"Up" he ordered imperiously. She did as she asked and she was greeted by a second blow that knocked her to the desk. The wood shook from the impact and loosened a few of those curiosities to the floor. His blow was nowhere near as powerful as the first (if it was her jaw would have been unhinged) but it did finish the job of loosening a molar.

She spat out a red tooth and adjusted her hat as the bone clattered on the floor. When she was done she placed her arms behind her back and waited with eyes forward. A black pigmented finger with yellow stripes traced the cloth at her belly and up to her chest. The master tapped a finger against the exposed skin and watched the generous flesh giggle. "The greatest leaders, sweet talkers, and money lenders in the known galaxy, and they all dress like common sluts," he said, more to himself than her.

Balak looked at her with his topmost pair of eyes. "Today Nezzy," he placed his augmented hand around her throat, "you get the privilege of being more than that: find this monkey and make a coat out of him." His smile gleamed blue in the light of the chamber, "Do you think you can manage that?"

She couldn't nod in ascent but she could still speak, "I'll notify my people on the Citadel at once. You'll have it that same hour," her expression remained unchanged even as red streaked from her lips and down her chin.

"Good," said the former spectre, with a smile that was wide in his pale face. He released his grip and frowned at the clash of red on his grey hand. He wiped her blood on her chest as his right eyes took in a picture frame that fell over. As she turned to walk back from whence she came, his voice stopped her.

"Nezzy?"

She spun on a heel and looked back, patient, expectant and attentive. The master's sounded subdued when he called her, all four of his eyes staring fixed at the photo and with a soft expression. When he turned back to the computer and flicked the screen to replay the dark man, she could sense the fury burn off of him in waves. "If it's _him_," he growled at the shooting figure, "dig out his eyes with picks."


End file.
